LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 
ROSARIO  CURLETT 


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Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852,  by 
D-\XIEL   C.  EDDY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


BTEEEOTYPED    AT    THE 
BOSTON     8TEKE0TTPE     EOUNDB.Y. 


HENRY  A.  MILES,  D.  D., 


TTVO      OTHER      FELLOW-TRAVELERS, 


Cjiis  53nliini]J  is  Mirntrlr, 


AS  A  EEMESflSCENCE  OF  Om  PLEASANT  TOUR, 


AS   A   TESTIMONIAL    OF    KESPECT. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/europaorscenessoOOeddy 


PREFACE. 


When  I  returned  from  Europe,  a  few  months 
ago,  I  had  no  idea  of  making  a  book,  or  adding 
to  that  very  questionable  department  of  American 
hterature  known  as  "  works  of  travel."  The 
residence  of  a  few  months  in  any  country  does 
not  give  one  such  a  full  and  perfect  idea  of  the 
people  as  will  enable  him  to  advance  opinions 
which  will  be  of  any  considerable  value  to  his 
readers.  And  yet  he  must  be  a  dull  scholar  if 
he  does  not  learn  something  which  he  can  present 
in  a  way  which  will  make  it  interesting  and  prof- 
itable. If  he  sees  and  hears  independently,  and 
without  prejudice,  his  criticisms  will  not  be  entire- 
ly worthless.  He  will  at  least  give  an  idea  of  the 
way  in  which  his  own  mind  was  impressed  by 
what  he  saw  and  heard  ;  and  though  he  might  not 
be  able  to  give  a  perfect  view  of  the  real  condition 
of  society,  he  will  be  able  to  sketch  its  outhnes, 
and  perhaps  enter  slightly  into  its  details. 

As  a  man  who  gazes  upon  a  beautiful  cathedral 
for  a  short  time  only  will  not  be  able  to  describe 


6  PKEFACE. 

every  particular  defect  and  excellency  of  the  ar- 
chitectural design  and  finish,  but  will  carry  away 
with  him  a  general  outline  of  the  whole,  and 
perhaps  a  distinct  impression  of  some  peculiar 
feature,  either  of  beauty  or  deformity,  so  the 
traveler  who  passes  hastily  through  a  country 
may  give  the  impression  which  he  received  from 
his  stand-point  of  observation  which  will  enable 
the  reader,  in  comparing  his  views  with  those  of 
other  visitors,  to  form  a  more  correct  estimate  of 
the  great  temple  of  the  world  than  if  he  had  not 
written. 

While  in  Europe,  I  endeavored  to  see  and  hear 
for  myself,  and  judge  independently  of  any  previ- 
ous prejudice.  In  giving  names,  dates,  times,  and 
distances,  I  have  doubtless  fallen  into  some  errors, 
which  the  reader  may  correct  at  his  leisure.  I 
have  also,  in  some  few  instances,  been  presump- 
tuous enough  to  predict  events,  which  the  uncer- 
tain future,  in  its  waywardness,  may  never  bring 
to  pass ;  and  I  leave  time,  the  rectifier  of  all 
errors  and  the  reformer  of  all  abuses,  to  read  the 
proof  of  them. 

As  I  have  written  for  my  own  personal  friends, 
and  the  members  of  my  own  congregation,  and 
as  the  first  edition  of  the  work  will  be  almost 
entirely  private,  I  have  allowed  my  own  pecuHar 
theological  sentiments  to  creep  in  now  and  then, 
more  or  less,  for  which  I  do  not  feel  disposed  to 
offer  apology  or  crave  pardon. 


PREFACE. 


If  it  be  said  that  I  have  used  the  names  of  men 
freely,  and  commented  upon  their  modes  of  hving, 
or  style  of  pubHc  speaking,  too  fully,  I  have  only 
to  say,  that  I  have  illustrious  examples  in  those 
English  and  French  clergymen,  statesmen,  novel- 
ists, and  poets  who  have  journeyed  in  America 
as  long  as  I  remained  in  Europe,  and  who,  on 
returning  to  the  old  world,  commented  as  freely, 
and  judged  as  hastily,  as  any  writer  on  this  side 
of  the  ocean  could  do  on  his  return  from  the 
scenes  of  grief  and  glory  beyond  the  deep.  I 
have  endeavored  to  be  just ;  and  if  telhng  the 
truth  about  a  nation  is  offensive,  why,  let  the 
people  do  as  the  pope  does  —  proscribe  railroads, 
and,  as  far  as  possible,  keep  all  foreigners  away. 
If  England  is  ashamed  of  her  gin  palaces  and  her 
starving  thousands,  let  her  shut  up  the  former 
and  redress  the  wrongs  of  the  latter.  If  France 
is  ashamed  of  the  coup  dieted  of.  her  "  prince 
president "  —  the  democrat  with  a  broken  and  out- 
raged constitution  beneath  his  feet  —  the  Catholic 
with  the  shame  and  guilt  of  perjury  on  his  soul, 
let  not  seven  millions  of  voters  indorse  his  course, 
and  by  their  noiseless  influence  sustain  his  infa- 
mous usurpations.  If  Italy  is  ashamed  of  her 
bones  and  beads,  crosses  and  cardinals,  her 
sovereign,  with  his  tiara  and  his  dandy  guards, 
let  her  enslaved  thousands  rise  and  be  men 
again,  as  were  the  people  of  Rome,  when  even 


8  PREFACE. 

Paul  could  boast  that  he  was  a  citizen  of  that 
once  favored,  but  now  fallen  city. 

The  reader  will  perceive  that  a  considerable 
portion  of  this  w^ork  was  written  before  the  late 
important  changes  in  Europe,  and  the  whole  was 
completed  while  those  changes  were  taking  place, 
and  when  their  results  could  not  be  known  ;  and 
still  the  traveler  asks,  "  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  ? "  for  no  morning  has  dawned,  and  nought 
but  faith  can  see  a  star  shining  amid  the  muta- 
tions and  revolutions  of  the  land  to  which,  to-day, 
all  eyes  are  turned  in  deep  soHcitude. 

But  patience,  man  !  to-morrow  will  come  ;  and 
such  a  morrow !  Heard  you  not  how  blood 
makes  fat  the  soil,  and  bones  enrich  the  earth? 
Know  you  not  that  freedom's  tree  shall  grow 
greener  yet,  where  blood  flowed  fastest  and  men 
died  freest?  Hath  none  ever  told  you,  and  have 
you  never  read,  that  "  God  is  in  history  "  ? 

To  the  kindness  and  generosity  of  my  friends 
I  am  indebted  for  the  tour  which  I  have  made  : 
I  am  grateful.  To  my  traveling  companions  I 
owe  much  of  the  pleasure  and  success  of  my 
undertaking  :  they  are  thanked.  To  God  belongs 
the  praise  for  a  safe  return  :  it  is  acknowledged. 


CONTENTS. 


I. 


INTRODUCTOEY  — THE  VOYAGE. 


Page 

Early  Desire  to  travel 

.    25 

Man  in  Gray 

An  old  Book 

25 

The  Hungarian 

The  Studies  of  late  Years 

.    25 

The  Variety 

The  ideal  —  the  real    . 

26 

Sabbath  Days  . 

Sad  Parting  —  glad  Welcome 

.    26 

Dr.  M.'s  Sermon  . 

The  fine  Ship       . 

26 

Sea  Storm 

Sea-sickness    . 

.    27 

Incidents 

Passengers  .... 

28 

Amusements  at  Sea 

The  Calvinist  . 

.    28 

First  Sight  of  Land 

The  Mirth  Maker 

29 

The  parting  Hymn 

The  steady  Man 

.    29 
11 

On  Land  again     . 

LIVERPOOL. 

Objectionable  Practice    . 

.     36 

Massive  Buildings 

St.  David's  Church 

36 

Birkenhead 

Dr.  M'Neile's  Church       . 

.    37 

Chester 

An  eloquent  Discourse 

38 

Railway  Station 

The  Docks      . 

.    39 

Railway  Travelling 

St.  James's  Cemetery  . 

40 

The  Country    . 

III. 

MANCHESTER. 

Recognized  as  Americans 

.    45 

Cotton  Factory 

Public  Streets      . 

46 

Factory  Schools   . 

Page 
29 

,  30 
30 

.  31 
31 

,  32 
33 

,  33 
34 
34 
35 


40 
41 
41 
41 

42 
44 


46 

47 


10 

Boarding  Houses 
Machine  Shop 
Sick  Box 
Operatives   . 


CONTENTS. 

48 

A  Hack  Ride 

49 

The  Cathedral 

49 

Peculiarities 

50 

A  Night  Ride 

50 
50 
52 
53 


IV. 


BIRMINGHAM. 

First  Impressions     . 

.    54 

John  Angell  James 

58 

Papier  Mache  Works  . 

55 

His  Sermon, 

59 

Electro  Plate  Works 

.    56 

Ignorance  of  American  Habits 

60 

Town  Hall  . 

55 

Ignorance  of  American  Geog- 

Splendid Organs 

.    56 

raphy  

61 

Grammar  School  . 

56 

Kenilworth  and  Warwick    . 

62 

Statue  of  Nelson 

.    57 

Dudley  Castle 

63 

St.  Martin's  Church      . 

57 

V 


GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON. 


Arrival    .... 

.    64 

Christ's    .... 

.    7G 

Looking  for  Apartments 

65 

Temple 

76 

Extent  of  London     . 

.    67 

St  Clement  Danes  . 

.    76 

Streets 

68 

St.  Margaret's 

76 

Parks       .... 

.    68 

St.  Martin-in-the-Fields  . 

.    76 

Public  Gardens    . 

68 

The  Thames 

.        77 

Monuments 

.    69 

Thames  Tunnel 

.    78 

Amusements 

69 

Smithfield    . 

79 

Bank  of  England 

.    70 

Cock  Lane 

.    79 

British  Museum   . 

71 

Billingsgate 

80 

St.  Paul's  Church    . 

.    73 

Covent  Garden 

.    80 

St.  Mary  Woolnorth     . 

75 

Newgate  Market 

81 

St  Mary-le-Bow      . 

.    75 

Little  Girl 

.    82 

All-Hallows 

75 

An  old  Lady 

82 

St.  Giles,  Cripplegate 

.    75 

An  Incident    . 

.    83 

St.  Sepulcher's     . 

75 

Starvation  and  Poverty 

84 

VI. 

INDUSTRIAL 

EXHIBITION. 

Origin  of  it      . 

.    85 

Mr.  Paxton 

.    86 

The  Building 

85 

Grand  Opening    . 

91 

CONTENTS. 

11 

The  Koh-i-Noir 

.    93 

Indian  Traps   . 

.  100 

JModels 

93 

Page's  Oars 

100 

Knitting  Work 

.    94 

Men  in  Soap    . 

.  100 

JMachineiy   . 

95 

Abuse  of  America 

.      101 

Carved  Work  . 

.    95 

The  Virginia  Reaper 

.  101 

Electro  Plate  Work     . 

96 

Clinton  Carpets    . 

.       102 

Bible  Exhibition 

.    96 

The  Clipper    . 

.  102 

French  Department 

96 

Bobbin  Machine  . 

.      102 

Other  Contributions 

.    97 

The  Lock  Picker 

.  103 

American  Department 

98 

Concert  in  the  Palace  . 

.      103 

Carriages 

.    99 

Attendance 

.  105 

Machinery   . 

99 

The  Productions  . 

.       106 

Daguerreotypes 

.    99 

The  next  Exhibition 

.  107 

Greek  Slave 

100 

VII. 


MINISTERS  OF  LONDON. 


Church  Service 

.    109 

Hon.  and  Rev.  B.  W.  Noel 

121 

Clerks        .... 

109 

Change  of  religious  Sentiments  121 

Singing 

.    110 

Style  of  Pulpit  Address  . 

122 

Sextons      .... 

110 

Rev.  Henry  Melville  . 

124 

John  Cumming,  D.  D.     . 

.     110 

The  Golden  Lecture 

124 

James  Hamilton,  D.  D. 

114 

Lothbury  Church 

124 

Rev.  R.  W.  Overbury    . 

.     115 

Cardinal  Wiseman 

126 

Rev.  Edward  Irving    . 

115 

Caricature  of  the  Cardinal 

127 

Thomas  Chalmers,  D.  D. 

.    115 

Controversy  with  Dr.  Cumming 

127 

Formation  of  the  Scotch  Church  116 

Dr.  Doyle  .... 

127 

Exeter  Hall  Discourses 

116 

The  Pontifical 

128 

Rev.  William  Brock 

117 

Exposure  of  Artifice   . 

130 

Rev.  Joseph  Beaumont 

119 

Dr.  Croly       .... 

131 

Rev.  Thomas  Binney     . 

.    119 

Rev.  Charles  Stovel  . 

131 

Rev.  George  Smith    . 

120 

Robert  Montgomery 

131 

Surrey  Chapel 

120 

Rev.  William  Chalmers      . 

131 

London  Missionary  Society 

120 

Comparative  Eloquence  . 

131 

Rer.  William  Jay . 

120 

VIII. 


BUNHILL  FIELDS. 


Nonconformist  Ministers        .     132 
Mrs.  Susannah  Wesley      .        132 


Rev.  Samuel  Wesley     .        .     132 
Rev.  John  Wesley     .        .        133 


12 


CONTEXTS. 


Isaac  Watts.  D.  D.    .  .        133 

J(An  Gin,  D.  D.     .        .  .     133 

Joim  Owen,  D.  D.      .  .        133 

Rev.  Richard  Price        .  .    1-33 

Rev.  George  Bnrder  .  .        133 

Rev.  Nathaniel  Mather  .  .    133 

Wesley's  Chapel        .  .        1-34 
Chari^  Weslev    ...    134 


Adam  Clarke,  D.  D.   .  .        134 

An  Anecdote          .        .  .     134 

Rev.  Richard  Watson  .        134 
Chamber  ia  which  Wesley  died  135 

Whit^field's  Tabernacle  .    135 

Melancholy  Memories  .        135 

Trust  in  Providence       .  135 


IX. 


EOYALTS 

•  Ayn 

High  life  and  Low  Life 

136 

Queen  Victoria 

136 

Prince  Albert 

136 

Prince  and  Princess  of  Prussia 

137 

The  royal  Children    . 

137 

Roval  Aunoyaoces 

138 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  . 

133 

English  Nobility    . 

139 

AEISTOCEACY. 

BuckJDgham  Palace   .  .        139 

St.  James's  Palace         .  .    140 

Lambeth  Palace          .  .        140 

Apslev  House        .        .  .    140 

Northumberland  Honse  .        140 

Hon-  Abbott  Lawrence  .  .     141 

A  Walk  in  the  Rain  .  .        141 


X. 


Splendid  Apartments  at  Wind- 
sor Castle  . 

St.  George's  Chapel  . 

Cenotaph  of  Princess  Char- 
lotte   

Alexander  Pope's  House 


:.£  A2< 

TD  HAMPTON  COTJET. 

Residence  of  Lord  Jc^  Rus- 

143 

sell         .... 

145 

143 

The  great  Grape  Tine 

145 

The  old  Palace      . 

145 

144 

The  impudent  Barber 

146 

145 

The  outwitted  American 

146 

XI. 


NT  — TOWEE  — WESTMIS'STEE  ABBEY. 


Honse  of  C<HnnK>n3 

.    143 

The  Commons 

.    149 

Hoose  of  Lords  . 

149 

The  old  Tower  . 

150 

The  Throne  . 

.    143 

The  Murder  of  Nobles  . 

.     151 

TheWooback  . 

149 

The  Crown  Jewels     . 

152 

Ecclesiastical  Title  Bill 

.     149 

Attempted  Robbery 

.    153 

Well i noon's  Speech  . 

149 

Lasting  Impressions  . 

153 

COMil^TS. 

13 

Westmia«ter  Abbev 

.     1S3 

Chapel  of  Heniv  VJl.    . 

1S4 

Royal  Coronations 

153 

The  English  Service 

155 

The  old  Chair 

.     153 

Death's  Lessons  to  Royalty    . 

155 

The  Poet's  Comer      . 

1.54 

The  Place  for  a  Friar 

155 

XII. 

>rKN-  A>T) 

1 H 1  \-GS. 

Fashionable  Parade 

.     156 

English  Dress 

1.S5 

F-no'Iish  Ladies  . 

15«3 

Conformance  to  Cnstom 

159 

Amencan  Ladies    . 

.     157 

Family  Government 

159 

F.Tiofliahmen 

1-57 

The  F.nsli-hman's  Nobilitv 

160 

The  Use  of  false  Hair 

.     157 

Exceptions     . 

160 

XIII. 


PRIS0>r5  — EAGGZD  SCHOOLS  — GEN'  PALACES. 


Politeness  of  the  Police 
Old  Bailey     . 
London  Corats    . 
Newgate  Prison     . 
The  Chapel 

The  condemned  Chair    . 
The  Place  of  Execution     . 
The  Ragged  School 
Government  of  the  Schools 
Mischievous  Children    . 
The  Handkerchief      . 
Field  Lane    . 
Ragged  School 
The  Prayer  Meeting 
The  Scholars      . 
The  Dormitories    . 


161 

Mr.  Greeley's  Comparison 

166 

161 

The  Street  Fight  . 

166 

l'^2 

Sabbath  Schools 

166 

VS^i 

Mr.  Noel's  Sabbath  School 

167 

16-3 

A  contemptible  Renark     . 

167 

163 

Gin  Palaces  . 

.    167 

1(53 

Their  Adornment 

1« 

163 

The  CtistomeTS 

.    16S 

163 

The  Wcwnan  and  Babe 

16S 

164 

The  two  little  Girls 

169 

164 

The  old  Man  and  his  Wife 

169 

164 

The  Tonno'  Man     . 

.    169 

164 

The  ominous  Threat  . 

170 

165 

TVnTiVinor  ChilrlrPTi 

.    170 

165 

Diluted  Liquor   . 

170 

165 

Rum  Drrn>nTig  in  America 

.    170 

XIY. 

REFORM  A^'D  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS. 


The  Cause  of  Temperance 

171 

Meeting     . 

172 

Habits  of  Clergymen     . 

171 

The  Sabbath  School 

.     172 

Temperance  Meetings 

171 

En  owlish  Anti-slaverv  . 

172 

Denunciatory  Speeches 

173 

American  Slavery  . 
B 

.     172 

14 


CONTENTS. 


Discourteous  Remarks       .  173 

The  Invitation        .        .        .  173 

Freemasons'  Hall  Gathering  173 

Hon.  Horace  Greeley's  Speech  173 

Reception  given  to  Americans  174 

Rev.  John  Burnet                   .  174 

Mr.  Hanson's  Speech          .  175 
Caste  of  Color       .        .        .176 

Caste  of  Birth    ...  176 

Religious  Reforms         .        .  177 

Union  of  Church  and  State  178 


Prospects  for  the  Future 
Peace  Congress  , 

The  silent  Prayer 
Sir  David  Brewster     . 
Speech  of  Richard  Cobden 
Military  Fortifications 
A.  Coquerell 
M.  Girardin 
Letter  of  Carlyle   . 
Letter  of  Victor  Hugo 
Impracticables 


178 
179 
179 
179 
179 
180 
181 
181 
181 
183 
184 


South-western  Railway 
Persons  in  the  Cars    . 
Arrived  at  Dover   . 
The  old  Fort      . 
Poor  Debtor's  Box 
The  famous  old  Gun 


XV. 

LONDON 

TO  PARIS. 

.    186 

The  English  Channel     .        .    187 

186 

The  Town  of  Calais           .         188 

.     186 

New  Scenes,  strange  Sounds      188 

187 

Cars  on  French  Railroads  .         188 

.    187 

The  French  Pie     .        .        .189 

187 

An  American  at  Table  in  China  189 

XVI. 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS. 


Arrival  at  Paris      . 

.     190 

Infanticide 

196 

A  Morning  in  Paris    . 

190 

Hospitals  and  Asylums  . 

.    196 

Men  of  France 

.    191 

St.  Vincent  de  Paul    . 

196 

Women  of  France 

191 

Convent  Life 

196 

Houses  in  Paris 

.    191 

Law  and  Order  . 

197 

The  Boulevards 

191 

National  Prejudice 

197 

P  aces  or  Parks      . 

.    192 

Waterloo    .... 

198 

Place  Vendome 

192 

National  Forbearance    . 

198 

Place  de  la  Concorde     . 

.     192 

The  Catholic  Religion 

198 

Luxor  Obelisk    . 

192 

Notre  Dame  . 

199 

Place  de  la  Bastille 

.     193 

The  Revolution 

199 

National  Falsehood    . 

193 

The  late  Archbishop 

200 

The  Cafes      . 

.     194 

The  Tomb  of  the  Austrian 

200 

The  Morals  of  the  City 

194 

Ecclesiastical  Habits 

200 

The  Marriage  Relation  . 

.    195 

The  Day  Dream 

201 

The  Contrast 

195 

The  Madeleine 

202 

Outside  Appearances     . 

.    195 

A  splendid  Service 

203 

CONTENTS. 


15 


The  Pantlieon        .  .        .203 

Tomb  of  Rousseau  .        .        Q04 

Tomb  of  Voltaire  .  .        .204 

The  Bones  of  Marat  .        .        204 

AdolphMonod       .  .        .205 

M.  Coquerell      .  .        .        205 

Wesleyan  Service  .        .    205 


Chapelle  Expiatoire    .        .  205 

The  Widow  Capet         .        .  206 

The  Duchess  of  Angouleme  206 

The  Chapel  of  St.  Ferdinand  207 

Duke  of  Orleans        .        .  208 

The  Count  of  Paris        .        .  208 


XVII. 


PARISIAN  LIFE. 

Champs  Elys6es 

209 

The  Hippodrome    . 

.    213 

Sabbath  Parade      . 

.    210 

The  Balloon  Ascension 

214 

Gambling  . 

210 

Theatrical  Exhibitions   . 

.    214 

The  out-of-door  Opera  . 

.    210 

Chateau  des  Fleurs    . 

214 

Quietness  and  Sobriety 

211 

Public  Gardens 

.    215 

The  Lower  Classes 

.    212 

Good  Nature 

216 

The  Wife  . 

213 

XVIII. 


OBJECTS  OF  INTEREST  IN  PARIS. 


The  Triumphal  Arch 

217 

Pere  la  Chaise    . 

218 

Striking  Feature    . 

218 

Tombs  of  Abelard  and  Heloise 

219 

Tomb  of  Marshal  Ney  . 

219 

Chapel  for  Burial  Services 

220 

A  Funeral      .... 

220 

The  Morgue 

221 

Two  Bodies  .... 

221 

The  Dead-cart    . 

221 

The  Hotel  des  Invalides 

222 

Napoleon's  old  Soldiers 

223 

Jerome  Bonaparte  . 

223 

Joseph  Bonaparte 

223 

Tomb  of  the  Emperor    . 

223 

The  Gobelins     . 

224 

Divorce  of  the  Empress  Jo- 
sephine ....  224 
House  of  Josephine  .  .  225 
Vestiges  of  Revolutions  .  226 
Marat's  House  ...  226 
Charlotte  Corday  .  .  .227 
House  of  Admiral  Coligny  228 
St.  Bartholomew's  Day  .  .  228 
Duke  of  Guise  ...  228 
Princess  Lamballe  .  .  228 
Cases  of  Suicide  .  230 
Bibliotheque  Royale  .  .  231 
Great  Picture  of  the  United 

States  Senate     .        .        .  231 

Opinion      ....  232 


16 


CONTENTS. 


XIX. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS. 


Louis  Philippe    . 
Lafayette 
Ledru  Rollin 
Lamartine  and  Barrot 
The  Revolution 
Flight  of  the  King 
Duchess  of  Orleans 
Count  of  Paris 
Duke  of  Chartres 
Captain  Dunoyer   . 
Lagrange   . 
Marshal  Gerard 
A  Butcher's  Boy 
Son  of  Marshal  Soult 
Theodore  Lebran 
Louis  Napoleon 
Louis  Bonaparte    . 
Hortensia  Beauharnais 
Duke  of  Montpensier     . 
Insurrection  at  Strasbourg 
Insurrection  at  Boulogne 
Virtues  of  Louis  Napoleon 
His  Morals    . 
The  Press  . 
The  public  Voice  . 
M.  Kossuth 
First  of  December 
General  Bedeau 
General  Changarnier 
General  Cavaignac 
Colonel  Charras 
Mademoiselle  Odier 
Archbishop  of  Paris 
The  famous  Proclamation 
Address  to  the  Army 
Address  to  the  People 
Decree  of  the  Chamber 


233  The  Election     ...       256 

233  Extraordinary  Language        .    257 

234  The  Catholic  Religion  .  257 
234  State  of  Society    .        .        .    257 

234  Popular  Education     .        .        258 

235  Pure  Religion        .        .        .260 

235  Forty-two  thousand  Priests         260 

236  Romanism     .        .        .        .260 

236  Episcopacy  and  Monarchy .        261 

237  Character  of  the  French  .  261 
237  Paris  rules  the  Nation        .        262 

237  Public  Buildings    .        .        .262 

238  Palace  of  Tuileries    .        .        262 

239  Fontainebleau        ...    263 

240  St.  Cloud  ....  263 
240  Versailles  .  .  .  .263 
240  Long-established  Prejudices  264 
240  Political  Millennium      .        .     265 

240  The  Ballot  Box .        .        .        265 

241  A  Republic   .        .        .        .265 

241  A  Kingdom        ...        265 

242  Hungarian  Independence       .    266 

243  An  enlightened  Calvinist  .  266 
243  Spies  and  secret  Officers  .  268 
243  Marseillaise  Hymn  .  .  268 
243  The  Orator  .  .  .  .269 
245  Washington  ...  270 
245        Sidney 270 

245  Cromwell   ....        270 

246  Mirabeau       ...  270 

246  Madame  Roland  .        .        270 

247  Camille  Desmoulins       .        .     271 

247  His  dying  Thoughts  .        .        271 

248  Danton 271 

248  His  Address  to  the  Execu- 

250  tioner  .  .  .  .271 
252 


CONTENTS. 

17 

XX. 

SOUTHERN 

FRANCE. 

Chalons      .... 

272 

Avignon 

.    275 

Breakfast 

.    273 

Marseilles  . 

275 

River  Saone 

273 

Mr.  Hodge     . 

.    276 

The  Rhone    . 

.    273 

Chapel  of  Our  Lady  . 

278 

Lyons         .... 

273 

The  Ercolano 

.    279 

Silk  Manufactory  . 

.    274 

White  Friars 

280 

Waldenses 

274 

The  Mediterranean 

.    280 

XXI. 

GENOA. 

F^teDay 

.    282 

City  of  Palaces  . 

284 

Churches  of  Genoa    . 

283 

Christopher  Columbus    . 

.    284 

Bones  of  John  the  Baptist 

.    283 

Amusements 

284 

The  Sacra  Catino 

283 

Clara  Novello 

.    284 

Unhallowed  Inscription . 

.    283 

Two  Nights 

286 

XXII. 


LEGHORN  — PISA  — CIVITA  VECCHIA— BAY  OF  NAPLES. 


Dreadfully  unfair  Night     . 

287 

The  Campo  Santo 

Six  Horses     . 

.    287 

Recommendation   . 

Leghorn     .        .        .         . 

287 

Galley  Slaves     . 

John  Smith    . 

.    287 

Civita  Vecchia 

Pisa 

288 

Fleas  without  Sheets 

Grand  Illumination 

.    288 

An  Oration    . 

San  Ranieri 

288 

Arrived  at  Naples 

The  Cathedral 

.    288 

Vesuvius 

The  Baptistery  . 

289 

Naples 

Leaning  Tower 

.    289 

289 
290 
291 
291 
292 
292 
293 
293 
294 


XXIII. 


RAMBLES  AROUND  NAPLES. 


Valet  de  Place   . 

296 

Grotto  of  Posilippo     . 

297 

Lazzaroni 

3 

.    296 

A  Hermit 

.    297 

18 


CONTENTS. 


Convicts     . 
Puteoli  . 
Bridge  of  Caligula 
Lake  Avernus 
Temple  of  Apollo 
Sibyl's  Cave  . 
Human  Horses  . 
Baths  of  Nero 
Temples  of  Diana 

and  Venus 
Julian  Port 


Mercury, 


297  Elysian  Fields 

298  River  Styx 
298  Nero's  Prisons 
298  Temple  of  Justice 
298  Temple  of  Neptune 

298  Lake  .Agnano 

299  Cavern  of  Charon 

300  Ammonia  Grotto 
Sulphur  Baths 

300  Characteristic  Exhibition 

300  The  Carlines 


301 
301 
301 
302 
302 
303 
303 
304 
304 
304 
305 


XXIV. 

THE  CHURCHES  OF  NAPLES. 


Sabbath  in  Naples 
Church  of  the  Jesuits 
Santa  Chiara 
Santa  Severa 
Dead  Christ 
Statute  of  Vice 
Virtue 


306  Church  of  the  Black  Prince  .    309 

306  The  Cathedral    ...  310 

307  St.  January's  Chapel      .  .310 

308  A  Bottle  of  Blood      .        .  311 
308  A  Miracle      ....    311 

308  The  high  Altar  ...  311 

309  Tricks  and  Artifices       .  .    312 


XXV. 


CATACOMBS - 

-CEMETERY  — TOMB  OF  VIRGIL 

Christian  Retreats . 

.    313 

The  Vaults 

316 

Hired  Mourners . 

313 

Garden  Lots  . 

.    317 

Frescoes 

.    314 

The  Monks 

317 

Extent  of  the  Catacombs 

314 

Virgil's  Tomb 

.    317 

The  new  Cemetery 

.    315 

Life  in  Naples    . 

318 

Its  fine  Location 

315 

Painting  and  Poverty     . 

.    319 

The  Chapels  . 

316 

XXVI. 

HERCULANEUM 

AND  POMPEII. 

Mournful  Associations 

320 

Destruction 

321 

Pompeii  from  Naples     . 

.    320 

The  terrible  Scene 

.    322 

Earthquake 

321 

Pliny's  Letters   . 

323 

Restoration 

.    321 

Herculaneum  discovered 

.    330 

CONTENTS. 


19 


Papyrus  Rolls    . 

The  Excavations 

Theater      . 

Burial  of  Pompeii 

Streets  of  Pompeii 

The  House    . 

House  of  Diomede 

His  Family    . 

Men  in  the  Stocks 

House  of  Sallust 

House  of  Pansa 

House  of  the  Tragic  Poet 

House  of  the  Fountains 

Barber's  Shop 

The  Apothecary's  Shop 


331  Downward  Course  of  Things       338 

331  Public  Offices     ...        338 

331  Temple  of  Isis      .        .        .338 

332  The  Priests        ...        339 

332  Theater         .        .        .        .340 

333  Pantheon    ....        340 

333  Forum 340 

334  Senate  House     .        .       '.        340 

335  Temple  of  Justice         .        .    340 

335  The  Amphitheater     .        .        340 
33G  A  Gladiator  .        .        .        .340 

336  Articles  of  Household  Furni- 

336  ture 342 

337  Museum  at  Naples     .        .        342 
337  A  Notable  Day      .        .        .343 


XXVII. 


VESUVIUS  THE  DESTROYER. 


Hight  of  Vesuvius 

Eruptions 

Torre  del  Greco 

A  Visit  to  Vesuvius 

Balloon 

The  gentle  Horse  . 

Fields  of  Lava  . 

Hermitage 

Observatory 

Lachryma  Christi  . 


344  The  Cone  . 

344  The  Crater    . 

344  Appearance  of  Vesuvius 

344  Our  Breakfast 

344  Sad  Event 

345  Description  of  an  Eruption 
345  TheTropia 
345  The  Descent 
345  Nature  and  God 
346 


346 
347 
347 
348 
349 
349 
351 
351 
352 


XXVIII. 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  C^aESARS. 


The  Eternal  City 
Pons  iElius   . 
St.  Angelo 
The  Seven  Hills   . 
Roman  Forum    . 
Via  Sacra 
The  Corso 
The  Coliseum 
Ignatius  of  Antioch 


353  Byron's  Description 

354  Circus  Maximus 
354  Circus  of  Maxentius 
354  Temple  of  Romulus  . 

354  Palace  of  the  Csesars 

355  Golden  House  of  Nero 
355  Island  of  Pandaleria 

355  Grotto  of  Egeria 

356  Temple  of  Bacchus 


358 
359 
359 
359 
360 
360 
361 
361 
362 


20 

Ship  of  the  Tiber       . 
Arch  of  Drusus      . 
Arch  of  Constantine  . 
Arch  of  Septimius  Severus 
Arch  of  Titus    . 
Baths  of  Caracalla 
Baths  of  Diocletian 
The  Pantheon 
Tomb  of  Raphael 


CONTENTS. 

362 

Mamertine  Prisons 

.    365 

.    362 

Catacombs  of  Rome  . 

366 

362 

Tarpeian  Rock 

.    367 

3    .    363 

Tomb  of  the  Scipios  . 

368 

363 

Tomb  of  Caius  Cestius  . 

.    368 

.    363 

Tomb  of  Augustus     . 

369 

364 

Tomb  of  Bibulus    . 

.    369 

.    364 

The  Columbarium 

369 

365 

XXIX. 


ANTIQUITIES  — KELICS. 


Scala  Santa  .        .         .        .370 
Luther        ....        371 
The  Indentation     .        .        .371 
Table  on  which  was  eaten  the 
Last  Supper       .        .        .    372 


Pictures  painted  by  Luke   .        372 
Cradle  in  which  the  Savior  was 
rocked     ....        372 


Italian  Credulity    . 
The  Knell  of  Rome 


373 
374 


XXX. 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES. 


Extent  of  the  City     . 

375 

Laocoon     .... 

388 

Roman  Citizenship 

375 

Apollo  Belvedere   . 

388 

St.  Peter's  .... 

376 

Sleeping  Cleopatra     . 

388 

The  Relics    .        .        .        . 

378 

Belvedere  Antonius 

388 

Head  of  St.  Andrew  . 

379 

Torso  Belvedere 

388 

Bronze  Statue  of  Jupiter 

379 

The  Library  .... 

388 

Anniversary  of  the  Pope's  Cor- 

The Sistine  Chapel     . 

388 

onation       .... 

380 

Last  Judgment  by  Michael  An- 

Silver  Illumination      . 

381 

gelo        .... 

389 

Golden  Illumination 

381 

The  Capitol   .... 

389 

St.  John  Lateran 

382 

The  Bronze  Wolf       . 

389 

Five  General  Councils  . 

382 

The  Dying  Gladiator      . 

390 

Baptistery 

383 

Inquisition  Palace 

390 

Church  of  the  Capuchins 

384 

Cloister  of  Tasso  . 

390 

Cloisters  of  the  Friars 

384 

Venus  of  the  Capitol 

390 

San  Paolo      .... 

385 

English  Burying  Ground 

391 

Church  of  St  Sebastian     . 

386 

The  Carnival      . 

393 

The  Vatican. 

387 

CONTENTS. 


21 


XXXI. 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH. 


Death  of  Gregory  XVI. 

399 

History  of  this  Relic  . 

412 

Camerlinque  . 

.    399 

Miracles   performed    by   this 

Cajetanina 

399 

Coat        .... 

413 

Pasquinades  . 

400 

John  Ronge  .... 

414 

Mastai  Feretti    . 

401 

Interest  taken  in  this  Impo- 

The Coronation      . 

.    401 

sition          .... 

415 

Lambruschini     . 

402 

Wretched  Intolerance  of  Ro- 

Metternich    . 

.    402 

manism 

417 

Reform  Measures 

402 

In  England 

417 

Opposition  to  Reform     . 

.    402 

In  France       .... 

417 

Pius  flies    . 

403 

In  Rome     .... 

417 

The  Attack  of  the  French 

.    403 

The  Press      .... 

418 

Corpus  Domini  . 

403 

The  Bible  a  proscribed  Book 

418 

The  Nun 

.    403 

The  Rights  of  Conscience     . 

418 

The  sceptical  Priest  . 

404 

Faith  with  Heretics    . 

418 

The  Gathering 

.    404 

Exiles 

418 

Monkish  Procession    . 

405 

A  Kempis  .... 

419 

The  Hats 

.    406 

Fenelon         .... 

419 

The  Pope  . 

406 

Cardinal  Wiseman 

420 

Hi»Body  Guard    . 

.    406 

The  apostate  Newman  . 

420 

His  Bearers 

406 

Bishop  Hughes  . 

420 

Personal  Appearance     . 

.    407 

Orestes  A.  Brownson     . 

420 

The  Benediction 

408 

Mazzini      .... 

420 

Rev.  Mr.  Barry 

.    408 

The  Penitent 

421 

Romanism 

409 

A     Case    of     Popish    Jug- 

Its  unblushing  Absurdities 

.    409 

glhig 

423 

The  Holy  Week 

409 

Rome  has  not'changed 

424 

Feet  Washing 

.    409 

Strages  Huguenotorum  . 

425 

The  Agnus  Dei 

410 

The  Slaughter  of  the  Hugue- 

Christi Missa 

.    410 

nots    

425 

Miserere     . 

410 

Taxa  Camarse  Apostolicee  . 

426 

Outline  of  the  Foot  of   t 

he 

The  Fall  of  Rome 

427 

Virgin    . 

411 

Baptist  W.  Noel 

427 

Coat  of  Jesus 

.    411 

A)/b 

XXXII. 

FLORENCE, 

Leaving  mighty  Rome 

428 

Hiram  Powers    . 

432 

Book  of  Mormon  . 

.    429 

Genius  of  America 

432 

Rome  to  Civita  Vecchia     . 

429 

Liberty  treading  on  Tyranny 

433 

Florence  by  Railway     . 

.    429 

Greenough     .... 

433 

San  Victoria's  Day    . 

429 

A  great  Work    . 

433 

A  Horse  Race 

.    429 

Churches  of  Florence    . 

434 

The  Florentine  Dives 

430 

Santa  Croce 

434 

The  Flower  Girls  . 

.    430 

Ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel 

434 

The  Cathedral    . 

431 

Santissima  Annunziato 

439 

The  Baptistery 

.    431 

Santo  Spirito 

439 

The  Bell  Tower 

431 

Santa  Maria  Novella  . 

439 

Pitti  Palace   . 

.    431 

The  Grand  Duke  . 

440 

Boboli  Gardens  . 

431 

Rome  to  America 

441 

Convents  and  Churches 

.    431 

Austrian  Soldiers  .        . 

441 

Studios 

432 

Military  Funeral 

442 

Pampaloni     . 

.    432 

Relics  and  Rites    . 

443 

XXXIII. 

« 

BOLOGNA  AND  FERRAEA. 

The  Diligence   . 

444 

Affecting  Verse     . 

446 

St.  Peter's  Day      . 

.    445 

Lines  to  Scipio  Gonzaga    . 

447 

Bologna 

445 

The  House  of  Ariosto    . 

448 

Academy  of  Fine  Arts  . 

.    445 

River  Po    . 

448 

Tomb  of  St.  Dominic 

445 

The  Sermon  .... 

448 

Two  Leaning  Towers    . 

.    446 

An  Ecclesiastic 

449 

The  Cemetery    . 

446 

Padua    

449 

Hights  of  St  Michael   . 

.    446 

St.  Antony's 

450 

Ferrara 

446 

St.  Justina's  .... 

450 

Prison  of  Tasso     . 

.    446 

The  Comaro 

450 

The  beautiful  Eleanora 

446 

ThePisani    .        .        .        . 

450 

XXXIV. 

YEN 

[CE  —  VERONA  —  MILAN. 

Ride  into  Venice 

452 

Shell  Fish. 

453 

Gondolas 

.    452 

Islands  .        ... 

453 

CONTENTS. 

23 

Bridges      .... 

453 

Nicolo  Erizzo     . 

455 

Tomb  of  Titian     . 

453 

Verona  .... 

.    457 

Monument  of  Canova 

453 

The  Amphitheater 

457 

San  Marco     .... 

453 

The  Tomb  of  Juliet      . 

.    457 

St.  Mark's  Square 

453 

Milan 

458 

Doge's  Palace 

454 

Milan  Cathedral     . 

.    459 

Giant's  Stairs     . 

454 

A  Funeral  Service     . 

459 

Bridge  of  Sighs     . 

454 

Specimen  of  Italian  Christians  459 

Government  of  Venice 

454 

Original  Painting  of  the 

Last 

Arch  of  the  Rialto 

454 

Supper,  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci  459 

Murder  of  Donato 

455 

An  Italian  Patriot 

460 

Giacomo  Foscari    . 

455 

XXXV. 

THE  ALPS- 

-PASS 

OF  THE  SIMPLON. 

The  Ascent 

462 

The  Cross  . 

465 

Change  of  Climate 

462 

Words  of  Bowring 

.    465 

Houses  of  Refuge 

463 

Brieg 

466 

Hospice         .... 

463 

A  Procession 

.    466 

Gorge  of  Gondo 

464 

Swiss  Hat . 

467 

Sabbath  on  the  Alps 

464 

Catholic  Rites 

.    467 

XXXVI. 

SWITZERLAND 

—  LAUSANNE  AND  GENEVA. 

Lausanne   .... 

468 

The  Prizes     . 

.    470 

The  Cathedral 

468 

The  Difference  . 

470 

House  of  Gibbon 

468 

House  of  Calvin    . 

.    470 

Geneva  

468 

Kindred  Spirits  . 

471 

Lake  Leman 

468 

Church  of  St  Peter 

.    471 

Castle  of  Chillon  . 

469 

Calvin's  Grave   . 

472 

Bonnivard  .        .        . 

469 

Sir  Humphry  Davy 

.    472 

Mont  Blanc    .... 

469 

The  Library  of  Geneva 

472 

Great  Fete 

469 

XXXVII. 

FRANCE  AND  ENGLAND. 

French  Custom-house    . 

476 

An  Adventure 

.    476 

Wet  Clothes      . 

476 

Dijon 

477 

24 

CONTENTS. 

An  Englishman  in  a  Dilemma 

478 

Storm  on  the  Channel    . 

481 

Spoorweg  .... 

479 

The  ludicrous  Scene  . 

481 

The  Frenchman's  Chest 

479 

Arrival  at  Dover    . 

482 

Barren  Heads     . 

479 

Burley  Custom-house  Officer 

482 

A  Mistake      .... 

480 

Victoria         .... 

482 

The  French  Colporter 

480 

The  Poet  Laureate     . 

483 

Opinion  of  Louis  Napoleon    . 

480 

His  Tribute   .        .        .        . 

483 

Arrival  at  Calais 

481 

XXXVIII. 

THE  VOYAGE - 

-HOME  AGAIN. 

Liverpool       .... 

485 

Napoleon's  Prediction    . 

491 

The  Europa 

485 

Health  to  America 

491 

The  Noi-th  Channel 

485 

Romish  Church 

492 

Rev.  A.  J,  Sessions's  Sermon 

485 

The  Bible  at  Nice      . 

492 

Iceberg          .... 

486 

Religion  in  Hungary 

493 

Collision  with  the  Florence 

486 

Bigotry  of  Sweden     . 

494 

Man  lost         .... 

487 

Affairs  in  Germany 

495 

Halifax       .... 

487 

Affairs  in  Austria       .         , 

495 

Highland  Soldiers  . 

488 

Persecution  of  Dr.  King 

496 

Arrival  at  Boston 

488 

Communication  of  Dr.  Devan 

497 

Home 

488 

Dependence  on  the  Bible 

498 

Present  Condition  of  Europe 

488 

American  Jesuits 

499 

Statement  of  Mr.  Roussel 

439 

Alarming  Sentiments     . 

499 

Social  Condition  of  France 

490 

Farewell  to  the  Reader 

504 

EUROPA. 


THE   VOYAGE. 

"  Visit  Naples,  and  then  die,"  is  a  saying  of  which 
every  traveler  is  reminded,  as  he  pursues  his  way  down 
through  sunny  France,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  deep 
blue  Mediterranean,  to  that  city  of  wonders,  and  to  that 
region  of  buried  wealth,  fashion,  and  beauty,  where 
God  has  chosen  to  exhibit  himself  in  awful  forms  of 
grandeur  and  power,  and  where  he  speaks  to  man  in 
the  thunder  of  volcanoes,  and  in  the  eloquent  silence 
of  deserted  cities.  I  well  remember,  when  a  child,  to 
have  found  an  old,  musty  book,  containing  a  traveler's 
account  of  his  pleasures  and  perils  in  the  south  of  Eu- 
rope. His  description  of  old,  hoary  Vesuvius,  which 
had  smoked  and  blazed,  bellowed  and  thundered,  there 
for  ages ;  of  Rome,  the  city  of  seven  hills ;  of  massive 
piles,  and  grand  old  ruins,  —  stirred  up  smouldering 
fires,  and  awakened  an  intense  desire  to  see  what  had 
been  so  graphically  portrayed. 

The  studies  of  later  years  have  increased  the  desire. 

I  have  scarcely  been  content  with  reading  of  battle  fields, 

monumental  piles,  old  ruined  towers  and  cities,  palaces 

of  dead  and  living  kings,  crowned  monarchs,  and  a 

4  9 


26  EUROPA. 

presumptuous  pope.  Mine  eyes  have  desired  to  witness 
scenes  so  long  familiar  to  imagination,  and  become  ac- 
quainted with  men  whose  works  I  have  read,  and  whose 
names  I  have  loved  to  honor.  All  through  youth,  fancy 
drew  vivid  sketches  of  the  vine-clad  hills  over  which 
Italia' s  children  gaze  ;  of  Rome,  that  city  where  proud 
Caesar  dwelt  in  his  now  ruined  j)alace,  and  where  the 
Lroken  fragments  of  temple,  forum,  circus,  and  sepul 
chre  are  piled  together  in  confusion ;  of  Florence,  that 
sparkling  gem  of  the  south,  with  its  galleries  of  paint- 
ing and  sculpture,  and  the  studios  of  its  artists  in 
every  street ;  of  Venice,  with  its  wave-washed  piles,  its 
"  bridge  of  sighs,"  its  light,  fantastic  gondolas,  propelled 
over  sparkling  waters,  'neath  golden  skies,  to  the  sim- 
ple melody  of  the  boatman's  song.  The  time  when  the 
reality  should  be  substituted  for  the  ideal,  and  I  should 
cross  the  Tiber,  by  old,  frowning  St.  Angelo,  and  pursue 
my  way  along  the  Via  Appia,  amid  the  crumbling  mon- 
uments of  the  past,  has  been  ardently  desired. 

A  few  months  ago,  the  way  was  opened  by  which 
these  desires  could  be  gratified ;  and,  with  the  three- 
fold purpose  of  securing  health,  recreation,  and  knowl- 
edge, I  left  the  familiar  scenes  of  home,  and  set  sail  for 
the  land  of  poetry  and  song.  The  sad  parting,  the 
tender  farewell,  the  good-by  song,  and  the  last  cordial 
grasp  of  the  hand  you  remember,  while  the  hearty  wel- 
come given  to  the  wanderer,  on  his  return,  has  not  yet 
died  out. 

I  took  passage,  as  you  know,  from  Boston,  in  the 
"  Daniel  Webster,"  the  ominous  name  of  one  of  the 
finest  packet  ships  that  ever  sailed  from  port.  The 
horror  of  the  sea,  which  I  had  always  felt,  disappeared 
as  I  stood  upon  her  deck,  and  contrasted  her  fine  form 
and  majestic  proportions  with  the  miserable  craft  which 


THE   VOYAGE.  •  27 

sometimes  find  their  way  across  the  deep.  To  tread 
there  seemed  more  like  walking  on  the  solid  land  than 
on  the  quivering  deck  of  a  vessel,  that  might  be  stranded 
on  the  first  shore,  or  foundered  in  the  first  gale. 

On  -one  Saturday  morning  in  April,  we  embarked. 
Over  the  side  of  the  vessel  kindly  salutations  were  ex- 
changed with  friends,  and  the  good  ship  swung  ofi: 
As  she  passed  out  of  the  harbor,  a  magnificent  view  of 
the  city  was  afforded.  The  tall  spires,  the  smoking 
chimneys,  and  the  towering  monument  on  Bunker  Hill, 
tokens  and  pledges  of  national  piety,  industry,  and  pa- 
triotism, were  the  last  objects  that  faded  from  our  view. 
Passing,  in  rapid  succession,  the  old  fort,  which  grinned 
ghastly,  as  if  she  wished  to  pour  her  iron  hail  down 
upon  us ;  the  splendid  hospital  on  Deer  Island,  smiling 
as  if  in  recognition  of  our  bloodless  mission ;  the  old 
light-house,  which  has  long  stood  to  guide  the  weary 
mariner  to  a  safe  anchorage,  —  we  were  soon  out  on  the 
open  ocean.  One  can  hardly  tell  the  feeling  of  loneli- 
ness and  desolation  which  comes  over  the  voyager,  as, 
for  the  first  time,  he  loses  sight  of  land.  He  is  cut  off 
from  the  great  world.  Above  him  is  the  broad  expanse 
of  sky ;  beneath  him,  a  wide  waste  of  waters  ;  around 
him,  the  whistling  wind  makes  melancholy  music.  The 
vessel,  which,  while  lying  at  anchor,  seemed  to  him  a 
floating  palace,  now  dwindles  to  a  speck,  and  himself 
sinks  down  into  insignificance,  in  the  presence  of  the 
awful  grandeur  of  the  deep.  Soon,  however,  this  loneli- 
ness and  the  sense  of  the  sublime  are  swallowed  up  in  the 
irritating,  exhausting  sickness  which  usually  attends  the 
first  voyage.  I  will  not  show  my  folly  by  any  attempt  to 
describe  sea-sickness,  or  bewail  what  I  suffered  in  cross- 
ing the  ocean.  No  one  thus  afflicted,  on  land  or  ocean, 
secures  sympathy.      The  poor  landsman,  however  sick 


28  EUROPA. 

he  may  be,  is  the  object  of  ridicule,  the  butt  of  wit,  and 
the  sport  of  all.  While  he  wishes  to  be  cast  into  the 
deep,  or  disposed  of  in  the  shortest  way,  the  more  for- 
tunate render  themselves  merry  with  his  sorrows.  My. 
share  of  sea-sickness  "  belonged  to  me  and  somebody 
else,"  as  a  good-natured  Irishman  on  board  told  me,  as 
one  day  he  saw  me  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  ship, 
wishing.  I  were  a  fish,  or  a  bird,  or  something  else  as 
insensible  to  the  evils  under  which  at  that  moment 
I  was  groaning.  It  was,  however,  some  consolation  to 
know  I  was  not  the  worst  on  board,  but  in  my  turn 
could  sport  with  those  who  were  in  deeper  affliction. 

When  sea-sickness  somewhat  abated,  and  I  could 
climb  from  my  state-room  to  the  deck,  I  began  to  study 
my  fellow-passengers.  The  captain  of  the  ship  was  a 
good-natured,  frolic-loving  man,  who  devoted  himself 
to  his  passengers,  of  whom  there  were  about  fifty  in 
the  cabin,  and  a  large  number  in  the  steerage.  His 
experience  and  skill  in  the  management  of  his  vessel 
gave  us  a  consciousness  of  safety,  and  his  urbanity  and 
kindness  made  the  long  voyage  pass  pleasantly  away. 
On  our  arrival  at  Liverpool,  complimentary  resolutions 
were  passed,  to  which  we  all  gave  our  assent  with 
hearty  good  will. 

The  oldest  man  on  board  was  Mr.  A.,  a  native  of 
Scotland  —  a  very  fat  man,  who  had  a  very  lean  wife. 
They  were  returning  from  the  land  of  their  adoption, 
to  the  land  of  their  nativity,  to  attend  the  old  kirk, 
and  meet  once  more  around  the  old  hearth-stone.  He 
was  a  fine  specimen  of  an  old-fashioned  Calvinist,  to 
whose  ears  there  was  nothing  sweet  in  the  tones  of 
the  church  organ,  nothing  true  in  a  written  sermon, 
and  whose  eyes  could  see  nothing  but  a  retrograde  in 
the  movements  of  our  times.     Cromwell  would  have 


THE   VOYAGE.  29 

delighted  in  such  a  man  for  a  supporter,  as  he  swept  over 
fields  of  battle,  singing  the  psalms  of  David.  And  yet, 
wedded  to  the  past,  and  to  the  old  Scotch  Presbyterian 
past,  he  was  a  man  of  sincere  and  unaffected  goodness, 
whose  life,  doubtless,  is  more  correct  than  many  who 
boast  a  more  liberal  faith. 

The  next  oldest  man  on  board  was  Mr.  B.,  a  jovial, 
hale  old  gentleman,  who  would  tell,  for  hours  at  a  time, 
the  most  improbable  stories  with  as  much  gravity  as  if  he 
believed  them  himself  He  was,  during  the  whole  voy- 
age, our  mirth-maker  general,  rattling  away  at  the  most 
unreasonable  rate,  alike  upon  politics,  religion,  morals, 
and  philosophy.  If  a  joke  was  to  be  perpetrated,  a 
freak  of  folly  carried  out,  B.  was  ready.  That  he  did 
not  "  sow  all  his  wild  oats  "  in  youth,  was  very  evident. 

Next  came  Mr.  C,  a  venerable  man,  upwards  of 
sixty  years,  who  was  the  first  to  retire  to  his  berth  at 
night,  and  the  first  to  leave  it  in  the  morning ;  the  first 
to  come  to  the  table,  and  the  last  to  leave  it ;  —  a  strik- 
ing instance  of  the  value  of  good  habits,  and  an  illus- 
tration of  the  influence  of  a  cheerful  disposition  to 
enable  one  to  "  hold  his  own,"  in  vigor  of  body  and 
sprightliness  of  mind.  He  had  sent  over  to  the 
"  World's  Fair "  a  lock,  which,  in  his  estimation,  all 
creation  could  not  pick,  and  a  safe  which  all  creation 
could  not  burn. 

Next  was  Mr.  D.,  a  tall  man  in  gray  —  gray  hah', 
gray  eyebrows,  (gray  whiskers,  if  he  had  any,)  gray 
coat,  gray  pants,  gray  vest,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  gray 
boots.  He  mingled  little  with  us,  but  moved  about 
with  a  yellow-covered  document  protruding  from  the 
pocket  of  his  great  gray  coat.  He  was  an  amiable 
man,  and  was  crossing  the  ocean  with  his  wife,  to  see 
the  land  and  the  graves  of  his  fathers. 

c* 


30  *  EUROPA. 

Next  was  Mr.  E.,  a  Hungarian,  who  boasted  of  his 
connection  with  the  distinguished  refugees.  He  told 
us  of  the  shrewd  way  in  Avhich  he  managed  to  butcher 
his  foes,  and  seemed  to  thmk  cold-blooded  murder  a 
very  harmless  amusement.  According  to  his  own  state- 
ment, he  was  a  truer  patriot  than  Kossuth,  and  a  braver 
man  than  Ujhazy.  He  evidently  was  a  fool,  or  thought 
we  were  fools.     I  set  him  down  as  a  traveling  pedler. 

Besides  these,  we  had  men  of  all  professions  and 
employments  —  three  clergymen,  each  of  whom  believed 
himself  right  and  the  others  wrong ;  a  physician,  whom 
I  should  not  be  afraid  to  trust,  provided  I  had  no 
other  disease  than  sea-sickness ;  a  tallow  chandler,  who, 
having  all  his  life  made  candles  to  light  the  way  of 
others,  was  now  going  abroad  to  light  his  own  candle ; 
two  young  graduates  of  old  Harvard,  who,  having  fin- 
ished their  education,  were  going  abroad  in  search  of 
genius  ;  a  fine  couple  of  English  people,  who  were  on 
their  way  to  the  scenes  of  their  youth ;  a  butcher  and 
a  baker ;  a  watchmaker  and  a  shoemaker ;  a  dry  goods 
dealer  and  a  liquor  seller;  a  file-cutter  and  a  brick- 
layer ;  an  old  man  nearly  seventy  years,  and  a  child  of 
three  weeks ;  one  fat  as  an  alderman,  and  one  dying  in 
consumption ;  card  players  and  Bible  readers,  —  in  fact, 
all  sorts,  white  spirits  and  gray,  forming  one  of  the 
most  agreeable  and  cosy  companies  that  ever  sailed 
from  Boston. 

We  endeavored  to  amuse  ourselves  as  best  we  could 
during  the  twenty-eight  days  we  were  on  the  deep ; 
sometimes  holding  mock  courts,  and  trying  some  of  our 
fellow-passengers  on  fictitious  charges ;  discussing  grave 
matters  of  law,  life,  and  logic ;  singing  songs  and  psalm 
tunes ;  and,  for  the  want  of  work,  turned  boys  again, 
and  went  to  play. 


THE    VOYAGE.  31 

Our  Sabbaths  were  spent  according  to  our  various 
ideas  of  propriety.  The  first  holy  day  we  were  on  the 
water  was  dismal  in  the  extreme.  But  few  of  us  were 
able  to  leave  our  beds,  while  from  the  poor,  sea-sick 
objects  of  commiseration  came  many  a  doleful  sound, 
and  many  a  significant  exclamation.  The  second  Sab- 
bath, too,  passed  very  much  in  the  same  way.  Storms 
swept  over  the  deep,  the  billows  ran  high,  and  we  were 
tumbled  about  in  the  most  amusing  manner.  The  most 
incorrigible  were  obliged  to  leave  the  cabin  and  seek 
their  berths,  and  over  all  seemed  to  hang  a  deep,  impen- 
etrable gloom. 

The  third  Sabbath  there  was  an  improvement.  Early 
in  the  morning,  we  were  aroused  by  the  cry,  "A  ship! 
a  ship ! "  and  a  few  minutes  afterwards  a  Bremen  vessel, 
her  deck  covered  with  human  beings,  her  fiags  filing 
proudly,  her  sails  all  set,  came  sweeping  by,  to  land 
her  living  cargo  on  American  shores.  At  eleven,  my 
traveling  companion,  Dr.  M.,  preached  a  sermon  to  the 
few  who  were  able  to  crawl  in  to  hear  him.  He  used 
for  his  text  that  declaration  of  Jonah,  "  It  is  bette.r  for 
me  to  die  than  to  live."  Most  who  heard  it  were  very 
much  of  Jonah's  opinion,  and  perhaps  no  more  appro- 
priate theme  could  have  been  selected.  The  preacher 
iiatly  contradicted  Jonah,  declared  that  he  knew  noth- 
ing about  the  matter,  and  proved  most  conclusively 
that  the  x^oor  sea-sick  creatures  on  board,  who  almost 
desii-ed  to  be  cast  out  into  Jonah's' uncomfortable  sep- 
ulchre, had  better  be  quiet  and  contented  where  they 
were. 

The  fourth  Sabbath  was  a  most  lovely  day.  The  sun 
arose  in  the  morning  in  all  his  beauty,  and  poured  a 
flood  of  splendor  over  the  waters.  Two  religious  ser- 
vices were  that  day  held  on  board,  in  which  orthodox 


32  EUROPA. 

and  heterodox,  Arminian  and  Calvinist,  Protestant  and 
Catholic,  Jew  and  Gentile,  bond  and  free,  united. 

You  would  have  been  amused  at  the  spectacle  we 
presented,  as,  pale  and  cadaverous  after  our  long  sea- 
sickness, we  two,  friend  M.  and  myself,  stood  up  against 
the  boat  which  was  on  deck,  and,  "v^ith  our  sermons  in 
our  hands,  preached  to  the  congregation  which  came 
from  cabin,  forecastle,  and  steerage.  There  was  to  me 
something  sublime  in  the  song  which  swept  over  the 
waters,  and  the  prayer  which  went  up  from  our  float- 
ing Bethel  to  the  God  of  ocean  and  storm.  I  never 
preached  in  such  a  chapel  before,  with  the  heavens  for 
a  bending  arch,  and  the  deep  ocean  for  a  carpet.  But 
God  preaches  louder  than  man  on  the  ocean.  His 
voice  is  heard  in  the  wild  roar  of  the  sea,  and  in  the 
moaning  wind,  and  the  wide,  wide  expanse  spread  out 
north,  south,  east,  and  west. 

Though  we  had  a  long  and  severe  passage,  we  had 
but  few  dangerous  storms ;  and  those  few  were  not  con- 
sidered by  the  sailors  as  at  all  uncomfortable.  On  the 
Saturday  evening  of  that  week  when  the  severe  and 
terrible  stomi  swept  along  your  coast,  destro}-ing  prop- 
erty, demolishing  light-houses,  and  sacrificing  life,  we 
experienced  a  gale,  which,  to  those  who  had  never  seen 
the  ocean  in  its  fury,  was  truly  appalling.  Just  at 
nightfall,  a  mast,  to  which  was  attached  a  tattered  sail 
and  the  oil  jacket  of  a  sailor,  drifted  by.  As  it  mount- 
ed on  the  waves,  it-  seemed  to  nod  mournfully,  as  if 
inculcating  lessons  of  prudence.  It  appeared  to  fore- 
tell the  storm,  which  soon  was  careering  over  the  wide, 
watery  waste.  I  had  never  before  seen  the  ocean 
lashed  into  rage,  and  the  impression  made  on  my  mind 
will  never  be  erased.  The  night  was  dark ;  not  a  star 
sent  down  its  twinkling  rays ;  the  rain  fell  in  torrents ; 


THE   VOYAGE.  33 

the  ropes  rattled  against  each  other ;  the  hoarse  cry  of 
the  officer  on  deck,  and  the  ahnost  chillmg  reply  of 
the  sailor,  —  "  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  —  mingled  with  the  blast ; 
deep  thunders  rolled,  and  vivid  liglitnings  gleamed; 
phosphoric  light  seemed  to  crown  every  Avave  with  fire, 
and  our  ship  plunged  about,  as  if  mad  with  the  storm 
which  was  crossing  her  track.  To  one  who  loves  the 
grand  and  the  sublime,  I  know  of  nothing  finer  than  a 
storm  at  sea.  All  sickness,  fear,  and  anxiety  depart ; 
every"  other  feeling  is  swallowed  up  in  the  one  awful 
idea  ;  and  the  beholder  almost  wishes  to  be  wrecked, 
stranded,  or  foundered,  —  any  thing,  that  he  may  see 
the  whole  of  such  a  grand  catastrophe. 

These  storms  give  rise,  sometimes,  to  most  amusing 
incidents.  One  morning,  while  the  company  were  at 
breakfast,  the  ship  w^as  thrown  upon  a  wave  which 
caused  her  to  plunge  and  reel  to  such  an  extent,  that 
those  who  sat  upon  one  side  of  the  table  canted  over 
upon  their  backs  upon  the  floor,  in  the  twmkling  of  an 
eye,  while  over  them  flowed  streams  of  milk  and  honey, 
and  upon  them  were  piled  meat  and  bread,  table  dishes 
and  their  contents.  The  ship's  surgeon  one  day  was 
administering  a  bowl  of  gruel  to  a  patient,  when,  by  a 
i-oll  of  the  vessel,  the  contents  of  his  bowl  were  dis- 
charged into  his  own  bosom,  and  the  doctor  was  forced 
unmllingly  to  take  his  own  medicine. 

Our  passage  was  so  long,  that  all  measures  were  re- 
sorted to  for  amusement.  One  fine  morning,  while  the 
ship  lay  becalmed  m  mid  ocean,  the  intelligence  was 
communicated  to  us  that  a  bottle,  containmg  some  doc- 
ument, was  floating  near  us.  It  was  at  once  conjec- 
tured to  contain  an  account  of  some  shipwreck.  Our 
interest  was  increased  by  the  apparent  zeal  of  the  offi- 
cers, who  lowered  the  boat,  and  brought  on  board  the 


34  EUKOPA. 

bottle.  All  gathered  around  to  see  it  broken,  and 
when  the  paper  within  was  read,  it  was  found  to  be 
a  harmless  joke,  which  had  been  perpetrated  upon  us 
for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  our  spirits  another  day. 
Out  of  it  grew  a  mock  trial,  in  which  all  the  parts 
Wdre  well  sustained  day  after  day,  even  to  the  use  of 
handcuffs  and  fetters. 

On  the  1st  day  of  May,  we  saw  land,  for  the  'first 
time,  in  the  dim  and  misty  distance.  A  long,  nar- 
row stripe,  like  a  bank  of  mist,  was  pointed  out  as 
"  Crow's  Head."  It  was  a  joyful  sight,  and  shout  after 
shout  burst  from  rejoicing  lips.  On  the  evening  of 
next  day.  Cape  Clear  light  was  recognized,  and,  soon 
after,  full  in  view  was  the  coast  of  Ireland,  with  old, 
ruined  castles  on  its  frowning  hills.  We  entered  the 
Mersey  on  Sabbath  morning,  and  soon,  passing  by  the 
town  of  Birkenhead,  the  great  commercial  city  of  Liv- 
erpool was  before  us.  Before  leaving  the  vessel,  we 
met  in  the  cabin,  and  sung  a  song  which  had  been  pre- 
pared to  the  tune  of  "  Poor  old  Ned,"  an  air  which 
had  often  been  employed  during  our  passage. 

There  is  a  good  ship,  the  Daniel  Webster  is  its  name, 

And  it  sailed  long  ago  —  long  ago  ; 
In  spite  of  head  winds,  it  has  crossed  the  stormy  main, 
In  the  tracks  where  the  good  ships  go. 
Now,  if  we  must  part,  be  it  so  ; 

But  we*'ll  say  farewell  ere  we  go  ; 
For  we've  no  more  a  home  on  the  ocean  foam, 
Since  away  we  must  go  —  we  must  go. 

Adieu  to  the  ship,  and  the  captain  true, 

Who  has  kept  us  safe  by  his  skill  ; 
While  each  of  his  mates,  and  his  jolly,  jolly  crew, 
Has  toiled  with  a  right  good  will. 
Now,  if  we  must  part,  be  it  so ; 
But  we'll  say  farewell  ere  we  go  ; 


TlIE   VOYAGE.  35 

For  we've  no  more  a  home  on  the  ocean  foam, 
Since  away  we  must  go  —  we  must  go. 

As  strangers  we  met,  but  with  sympathetic  hearts. 

Ere  we  sailed,  long  ago  —  long  ago  ; 
Now,  tears  fill  our  eyes,  as  each  one  departs, 
Ne'er  to  meet,  perchance,  here  below. 
Now,  if  we  must  part,  be  it  so  ; 

But  we'll  say  farewell  ere  we  go    ; 
For  we've  no  more  a  home  on  the  ocean  foam, 
Since  away  we  must  go  —  we  must  go. 

The  echo  died  away,  and  another  song  —  sweeter, 
purer,  and  more  befitting  the  sacred  day  —  went  up  to 
God  from  that  company,  about  to  be  separated,  never 
to  meet  again  on  earth. 

Be  thou,  O  God,  exalted  high; 
And  as  thy  glory  fills  the  sky. 
So  let  it  be  on  earth  displayed. 
Till  thou  art  here  as  there  obeyed. 

Here  our  voyage  was  finished,  and,  with  bandbox 
and  bundle,  we  prepared  to  go  ashore,  very  willing  to 
exchange  "  life  on  the  ocean  wave  "  for  life  on  the  solid 
land,  where  knives  and  forks  would  not  dance  together 
on  the  table,  and  where  our  bed  at  night  would  not 
now  and  then  take  a  notion  to  stand  on  the  head-board 
or  foot-board,  thus  reversing  the  position  of  the  sleeper 
to  a  most  uncomfortable  degree,  —  but  where  his  head 
and  feet  would  always  be  in  their  proper  places,  no 
longer  at  the  mercy  of  the  storm,  the  winds,  and  the 
waves. 


36  EUROPA. 


II. 


LIVERPOOL. 


We  soon  passed  the  custom-liouse,  had  our  baggagt 
examined,  and  Tvere  on  our  way  to  a  hotel.  Every 
thing  was  new  and  strange.  I  expected  to  have  seen 
a  crowd  of  jostHng  haclonen,  a  multitude  of  beggars, 
and  a  swarm  of  pickpockets,  but  was  agreeably  disap- 
pointed in  finding  the  streets  as  quiet  as  our  o^^n,  the 
police  officers,  with  a  neat  distinguishing  livery,  ready 
to  bestow  any  attention,  and  the  people  free  from  that 
idle  gaze  with  which  a  person  is  received  in  an  Ameri- 
can city,  if  he  chances  to  arrive  at  an  unusual  hour,  or 
in  an  uncomely  plight.  As  we  moved  on,  the  corners 
of  the  streets  were  seen  covered  with  notices  of  reli- 
gious meetings.  This  objectionable  practice  prevails  all 
over  England,  and  clerg}Tnen,  on  Saturday,  have  large 
placards  pasted  on  the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  on 
public  buildings,  informing  the  people  of  the  hour  and 
the  subject  on  which  they  ^^ill  discourse.  Some  of  these 
Qotices  are  several  feet  in  length,  and  are  worded  so  as 
to  draw  attention.  One  was  headed,  "  Popery  misrep- 
RESEXTED  AXD  REPRESEXTED;  Or,  JVhick  is  u'hick ;''  and 
below  followed  a  notice  that  Rev.  Mr.  Somebody  would 
preach  on  Popery  at  a  given  hour. 

After  dinner,  I  went  out  to  find  a  religious  ser"^ice. 
I  went  to  several  chapels  of  our  own  denomination,  but 
found  them  closed,  the  prevailing  custom  being  to  hold 
ser\ice  in  the  morning  and  evening.     St.  David's  Church 


LIVERPOOL.  37 

I  found  open.  It  would  seat  more  than  a  thousand 
persons,  and  but  tAventy-four  adults  and  thirty-one  chil- 
dren were  present.  An  elderly  man  was  preaching 
from  the  words,  "  Wherefore  gird  up  the  loins  of  your 
mind,"  &c.  The  discourse  was  sound  in  doctrine,  ably 
written,  but  drawled  and  jerked  out  in  the  most  unpar- 
donable manner.  The  children  were  at  play,  and  the 
adults  were  asleep.  On  the  evening  of  the  same  day, 
I  wandered  out  to  the  church  of  the  famous  Hugh 
M'Neile,  one  of  the  best  pulpit  orators  I  heard  in  Eng- 
land. His  church  is  far  away  from  the  noise  and  con- 
fusion of  the  city,  in  a  beautiful  park,  and  is  a  costly 
and  elegant  Gothic  structure.  Though  so  far  removed 
from  the  mass  of  habitations  and  the  crowded  streets, 
it  is  always  well  filled  with  an  aristocratic  audience. 
On  the  evening  in  question,  it  was  crowded.  We  en- 
tered after  the  service  had  commenced ;  a  song  of  praise 
was  sweetly  sounding  through  the  aisles,  and  echoing 
amid  the  arches  overhead.  As  we  passed  up  the  aisle, 
w^e  were  at  once  recognized  as  strangers,  and  several  pew" 
doors  were  immediately  thrown  open  to  us  —  an  in- 
stance of  genuine  politeness  seldom  shown  so  promptly, 
and  with  such  apparent  cheerfulness,  in  England  or 
America.  Dr.  M'Neile  is  apparently  about  sixty  years 
of  age,  tall  and  dignified  in  his  demeanor,  erect  and 
manly  in  his  bearing,  having  a  countenance  full  of  life, 
and  an  eye  flashing  with  the  fires  of  genius  and  intel- 
lect. His  tone  is  earnest,  and  his  enunciation  clear  and 
distinct.  His  hair  is  gray,  bordering  on  snowy  white- 
ness, and  is  carefully  arranged.  His  countenance  is 
one  of  the  most  expressive  I  have  ever  seen,  and  marks 
him  as  a  man  of  vigorous  thought  and  energy.  He 
has  recently  entered  into  the  arena  of  theological  dis- 
cussion, as  an  opponent  of  the  church  of  Rome;  and 

D 


38  EUROPA. 

few  men  in  England  are  feared  more  by  the  pope  and 
his  cardinals  than  Hugh  M'Xeile. 

And  yet,  with  all  his  abilities,  he  has  committed  fol- 
lies which  ordinary  men  could  not  survive.  I  was  told 
by  a  member  of  his  church,  that,  on  one  occasion,  when 
Prince  Albert  was  on  a  visit  to  Liverpool,  he  attended 
the  service  performed  by  this  distinguished  man.  The 
preacher,  carried  away  by  his  enthusiastic  love  of 
royalty,  preached  a  discourse  from  that  awful  passage 
in  the  Book  of  Revelation,  "  Behold,  he  cometh  with 
clouds,  and  every  eye  shall  see  him,"  and  an  applica,- 
tion  of  this  language  was  made  to  the  distinguished 
\TLsitor.  The  sermon  which  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
hear  was  from  the  words  of  Paul  —  "That  thou  mayest 
know  how  to  behave  thyself  in  the  house  of  God,  which 
is  the  church  of  the  living  God,  the  pillar  and  ground 
of  the  truth."  The  introduction  was  very  simple,  and 
was  devoted  to  an  explanation  of  the  word  "  chiu'ch," 
and  the  different  ways  in  which  it  is  applied  in  the 
New  Testament.  The  "  names  given  to  the  church " 
formed  his  subject.  1.  The  house  of  God.  The  earthly 
temple,  with  its  smoking  incense,  its  swellmg  anthems, 
its  robed  priests,  its  flaming  altars,  its  shekinah,  and 
all  its  glory,  is  God's  emblem  of  his  church.  As  a 
house  is  builded,  so  the  church  is  built.  As  the  rough 
stones  are  taken  from  the  quarry,  smoothed  and  pol- 
ished, so  the  sinner  is  taken  from  the  depths  of  sin, 
changed,  purified,  and  put  as  a  lively  stone  into  God's 
house.  Every  disciple  has  some  place  there  —  the 
place  of  a  nail,  or  a  brick,  or  a  stone.  2.  The  church 
of  the  limng  God.  Paganism  is  a  dead  religion ;  its 
forms,  services,  and  ceremonies  are  dead.  Papists  wor- 
ship a  dead  \irgin,  dead  saints,  dead  relics  —  all  are 
dead.     Christianity  lives;  is  full  of  activity;  God  has 


LIVERPOOL.  39 

breathed  into  it  his  own  living  spirit.  3.  The  pillar 
and  ground  of  truth.  The  proclamations  of  the  an- 
cient kings  were  written  out,  and  hung  upon  pillars, 
that  the  people  might  read.  The  church,  the  minister, 
the  Christiaa,  are  to  be  God's  pillars,  to  hold  up  his 
truth,  that  dying  men  may  read  it. 

During  the  delivery  of  this  discourse,  the  preacher 
stood  with  a  small  Bible  in  his  hand,  and  was  unem- 
barrassed with  notes.  The  sermon  was  ingenious  rather 
than  profound,  impressive  rather  than  eloquent.  It 
was  followed  by  an  extemporaneous  prayer,  offered  in  a 
subdued  and  melting  tone,  and  seemed  full  of  the  true 
and  unmistakable  spirit  of  devotion. 

On  the  following  morning,  I  went  out  to  see  the  city. 
Liverpool,  you  know,  is  the  greatest  commercial  city  in 
the  world.  The  docks,  its  principal  attraction,  are  of 
peculiar  construction,  and  admirably  adapted  to  their 
purpose.  They  are  built  between  the  river  and  the 
town,  guarded  from  storms,  and  filled  at  high  tide  from 
the  river.  Many  of  them  can  be  entirely  drained  at 
low  tide,  or  kept  full,  as  circumstances  may  require. 
These  docks,  built  at  an  immense  expense,  are  capable 
of  protecting  a  vast  number  of  vessels,  and  distin- 
guish Liverpool  from  all  other  cities. 

One  would  hardly  select  Liverpool  as  a  place  of  resi- 
dence, independent  of  business  considerations.  The 
streets  are  irregular,  and  filled  with  seamen  and  dock 
laborers  of  the  lowest  class ;  houses,  stores,  and  work- 
shops are  strangely  mixed  together  ;  and  ignorance  and 
poverty  are  more  distinctly  seen  than  in  London. 
There  are  some  fine  public  buildings,  among  which  the 
stranger  admires  the  Exchange,  the  new  Sailors'  Home, 
St.  George's  Hall,  and  several  others.  There  are  parks 
and  cemeteries  of  great  beauty.     I  wandered  into  St. 


40  EUROPA. 

James's  Cemetery,  situated  in  a  deep  dell,  surrounded 
by  high  hills,  in  Avhich  excavations  are  made  for  tombs. 
Almost  the  first  object  which  meets  the  eye,  on  enter- 
ing, is  a  Grecian  oratory,  in  which  are  several  monu- 
ments to  the  crumbling  memory  of  the  dead.  On 
every  side  are  statues  and  effigies,  the  poor  memorials 
of  once  living,  moving  men.  This  burial-place  is  one 
of  much  rural  beauty,  and,  from  its  picturesque  situation 
in  what  was  once  a  stone  quarry,  in  the  sides  of  which 
are  several  sculptured  galleries  of  catacombs,  draws  the 
attention,  and  claims  a  visit  from  every  stranger.  The 
great  object  of  interest,  however,  is  the  marble  statue  of 
the  Et.  Hon.  William  Huskisson,  formerly  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  citizens  of  Liverpool.  The  statue 
stands  in  a  circular  oratory,  and  was  made  in  Eome  by 
an  English  artist.  There  are  several  other  burial-places 
in  Liverpool,  but  to  the  sacred  groves  of  none  of  them 
did  I  find  time  to  resort. 

Perhaps  the  stranger's  attention  is  arrested,  in  an 
English  town,  by  nothing  more  than  the  heavy,  mas- 
sive, frowning  appearance  of  the  public  and  private 
buildings.  The  eye  of  an  American,  which  has  long 
gazed  upon  neat  white  dwellings  and  churches,  enclosed 
in  gardens  of  luxuriant  freshness,  soon  tires  with  the 
dull  monotony  of  a  city  all  built  of  brick  and  stone, 
blackened  by  age  and  storms,  and  begrimed  with  the 
smoke  of  the  chimney  and  the  dust  of  the  furnace. 
The  buildings  in  Liverpool  all  look  as  if  built  to  last 
through  time.  They  seem  to  defy  the  heat  of  summer 
and  the  blasts  of  winter  —  the  assaults  of  time,  and 
the  ravages  of  fire  and  sword.  Among  the  churches  is 
one  of  cast  iron ;  and  another  for  the  blind,  in  which 
the  singing  is  done  by,  and  the  congregation  composed 
chiefly  of,  the  poor,  unfortunate  inmates  of  the  blind 


LIVERPOOL.  41 

as)4um,  a  charity  which  adorns  the  city  of  Liverpool 
even  more  than  its  docks,  or  its  commercial  advantages. 

While  at  Liverpool,  I  went  out  to  the  new  town  of 
Birkenhead,  which  has  grown  up  within  a  few  years 
with  great  rapidity,  and  much  resembles  some  of  our 
cities  on  the  lakes,  in  its  active  enterprise  and  cheerful 
industry.  The  principal  object  of  interest  here  is  an 
old,  ruined  abbey,  built  several  centuries  ago  by  Baron 
Haman  Massie.  It  was  once  the  home  of  religious 
men,  the  seat  of  divine  and  holy  influences ;  but,  like 
the  religion  which  once  flourished  within  its  walls,  it  is 
now  broken  down,  and  its  beauty  is  entirely  destroyed. 

A  \dsit  to  the  fine  old  town  of  Chester  formed  an- 
other excursion  which  I  took  with  much  pleasure. 
Unlike  Birkenhead,  Chester  bears  the  marks  of  age ; 
old  Roman  remains  appear  on  every  side ;  and  the  an- 
tiquarian will  find  a  hundred  objects  of  study  and  con- 
templation. All  around  Liverpool  are  quiet,  pleasant 
villages,  lying  in  great  rural  beauty,  inviting  the  trav- 
eler to  turn  aside  from  the  busy  hum  of  labor,  and  the 
confusion  of  the  crowded  city, — 

'*  To  nature,  woods,  winds,  music,  valleys,  hills, 
And  gushing  brooks." 

After  surveymg  Liverpool  and  its  environs,  we  re- 
paired, just  at  nightfall,  to  the  railway  station,  to  take 
the  cars  for  Manchester.  The  depot  formed  a  remark- 
able contrast  with  those  in  our  own  countrj'-.  It  was 
erected  m  1837,  at  an  immense  expense,  and  is  lighted 
from  the  roof  The  stone  front  has  thirty-six  Corinthi- 
an columns  and  four  large  arched  gateways,  and  stands 
out  in  its  nobility,  fit  exterior  of  this  great  palace  of 
transportation.  On  leaving  the  station,  the  train  enters 
a  long  tunnel,  dark  as  Egypt,  and   di-eary  as   night 


42  EUROPA. 

This  tunnel  is  six  thousand  six  hundred  and  ninety 
feet  long,  seventy-five  feet  wide,  and  fifty-one  feet  high, 
and  passes  directly  under  the  city,  while  over  it  rise 
churches,  houses,  halls,  and  places  of  trade  and  indus- 
try. He  who  had  never  rode  in  a  rail-car  would  hardly 
be  willing  to  begin  by  riding  through  this  subterranean 
passage.  The  oppressive  darkness,  which  can  be  felt ; 
the  cold,  damp  chill,  which  pierces  to  the  bones ;  the 
glaring  lamp  on  the  engine,  and  the  screaming  of  the 
ii'on  horse,  —  all  render  the  five  minutes  spent  under 
the  streets  and  temples  of  the  great  mart  of  commerce 
most  unpleasant  and  disagreeable. 

On  emerging  from  tliis  dark  passage,  the  traveler  has 
opportunity  to  examme  the  car  in  which  he  rides,  and 
the  countenances  of  his  fellow-passengers.  The  rail- 
way arrangements  are  very  different  in  England  from 
ours  in  America.  There  are  three  classes  of  cars,  and 
for  either  of  them  the  traveler  purchases  his  ticket 
as  he  may  choose.  Having  secured  his  ticket,  he  is 
sent  into  a  room  where  he  finds  others  who  are  to  ride 
in  the  same  class  cars.  If  he  be  a  third-class  passen- 
ger, he  does  not  see  those  who  are  to  ride  in  the  first 
and  second-class  cars.  They  too  are  shut  up,  to  await 
the  hour  of  starting.  When  this  arrives,  the  first-class 
passengers  are  taken  from  the  room  where  they  have 
been  held  in  durance,  and  seated  in  the  cars,  and  the 
doors  are  closed,  and,  m  some  instances,  locked.  Then 
the  second-class  passengers  are  seated,  and  at  length 
the  third.  The  cars  are  short,  being  only  about  eight 
feet  long  and  six  wide,  and  are  frequently  divided  by 
a  partition  as  high  as  the  head  of  a  person  sitting. 
The  first  class  are  well  arranged,  well  fitted,  and  com- 
fortable ;  but  the  fare  in  them  is  so  high,  that  few  be- 
sides the  nobility  and  the  wealthy  ride  in  them.     The 


LIVERPOOL.  43 

second  class  are  destitute  of  cushions,  and  almost  every 
other  comfort.  On  the  hard  seat,  with  the  straight 
back,  the  passenger  is  compelled  to  sit,  with  his  feet 
covered  up  with  boxes  and  baggage,  gazing  upon  the 
placards  which  are  pasted  up  on  the  sides  and  ends  of 
the  car.  Generally  these  cars  have  two  seats,  each 
holding  five  persons  —  one  half  looking  into  the  faces 
and  trampling  upon  the  feet  of  the  other  half  The 
window,  or  ventilator,  as  it  should  be  called,  is  a  small, 
square  aperture  in  the  door,  like  the  window  of  a 
coach,  and  sometimes  has  a  slide  of  glass,  but  more 
generally  of  wood,  to  keep  out  the  rain.  Smoking, 
snuiF-taking,  tobacco-chewing  are  all  allowed ;  and  these 
privileges  are  improved  by  the  English  generally.  The 
last  time  I  rode  in  the  cars  in  England,  I  found  myself 
in  company  with  one  Erenchman  and  his  lady,  two 
young  men  who  were  smoking  the  most  abominable 
cigars,  three  apparently  well-bred  English  ladies,  and 
an  Irish  woman.  The  young  men  kept  on  smoking, 
the  rain  dashed  against  the  window  of  the  car,  and 
compelled  us  to  close  it ;  and  twice  or  thrice  during  the 
day,  the  Irish  woman  drew  an  onion  of  very  respecta- 
ble dimensions  from  her  basket,  and  slicing  it  up  with 
bread,  devoured  it  eagerly,  with  as  much  apparent  relish 
as  if  it  were  a  finely-flavored  peach. 

The  third-class  cars  are  somewhat  longer,  and  have 
rough  seats,  like  some  of  our  baggage  cars,  and  are  no 
more  comfortable  or  convenient.  The  fare  is  higher 
for  this  class  than  in  our  country  for  the  best.  Con- 
nected with  all  the  roads  is  what  is  termed  "  the  Parlia- 
ment train  "  —  a  train  which  government  compels  every 
corporation  to  run  for  the  accommodation  of  the  poor, 
at  one  penny,  or  two  cents,  a  mile.  But  the  accommo- 
dations are  so  wretched,  the  speed  so  slow,  the  stopping- 


44  EUROPA. 

places  so  numerous,  that  few  who  can  j)ay  higher  fare 
are  willing  to  ride  in  it. 

The  country  between  Liverpool  and  Manchester, 
though  not  the  best  in  England,  is  verj^  fine  —  a  very 
garden ;  and  when  we  passed  through  it,  it  was  just 
budding  into  the  life  of  spring.  The  banks  on  each 
side  of  the  road,  and  the  borders,  were  all  cultivated; 
and,  as  we  rode  on,  flowers  were  seen  blooming  all 
around.  Increasing  our  speed  everj*  minute,  we  whuied 
rapidly  b}-  the  proud,  old  residences  of  aristocratic  land- 
holders, and  the  rude,  thatched  cottage  of  the  peasant; 
now  entering  into  cultivated  farms,  and  then  through 
fields  of  waving  grain ;  now  leaving  in  the  distance  the 
village  chui-ch,  imbosomed  in  rich  foliage,  like  a  gem 
conscious  of  its  worth  and  beauty,  and  then  rushing  by 
acid  works,  tin  works,  tan  works,  glass  works,  which 
send  their  noxious  gases  out  to  deaden  the  opening 
verdure  of  spiing ;  now  enteiing  the  more  dismal  re- 
gions of  coal  burning,  and  then  thi'ough  towns  and 
villages,  towards  the  greatest  manufacturing  city  of  the 
old  world. 


MANCHESTER.  45 


III. 
MANCHESTER. 

We  entered  Manchester  just  at  evening,  when  the 
streets  were  filled  ^^ith  stem,  hard-fisted  men,  returning 
from  their  daily  toil,  and  squalid-looking  women,  flit- 
ting along  to  some  rude  tenement,  weary,  faint,  and 
sad.  On  every  hand  we  met  deformed  and  shapeless 
beings,  —  some  vending  cofiee,  and  some  peanuts ;  some 
women,  some  men,  and  some  children,  —  living  prod- 
ucts of  a  system  which  places  mere  children  at  the 
loom,  and  over  the  wheel,  at  an  age  when  they  are 
unable  to  endure  fatigue,  or  resist  the  influence  of 
confinement  and  weariness. 

We  were  amused  at  the  readiness  with  which  the 
people  in  the  streets  recognized  us  as  Americans.  A 
gentleman  stepped  up  as  we  passed  along  one  day,  and 
inquired  if  we  were  acquainted  with  Mr.  B..  a  gentle- 
man of  Philadelphia,  who  was  then  in  the  city.  A 
little  lad  followed  us  along  some  distance,  and  at 
length,  to  extract  from  us  a  few  coppers,  said,  •'  I'll 
whistle  you  Yankee  Doodle  for  a  penny,  sir,"  and 
forthwith  commenced  whistling  our  national  air,  to  our 
great  amusement. 

Manchester  is  a  large  and  beautiful  city.  I  had  pic- 
tured out  a  town  of  wretched  appearance ;  long,  low, 
narrow  streets,  filled  with  beggars  and  thieves,  and 
lined  on  each  side  by  the  miserable  habitations  of 
half-paid  laborers.     But  I  was  agreeably  disappointed. 


46  EUROPA. 

The  streets  are  wide,  paved  with,  a  small,  brick-form 
stone,  and  contain  many  very  elegant  buildings  of  a 
public  and  private  character.  The  churches  are  fine 
structures  —  some  of  them  erected  at  a  very  great  ex- 
pense. I  have  heard  Lowell  designated  as  the  "  Man- 
chester of  America;"  but  it  no  more  compares  with 
the  Manchester  of  England,  than  does  a  little,  rural 
village  with  the  great  and  populous  city  —  the  crowded 
mart  of  commerce. 

The  first  object  of  interest  and  study  to  the  stranger 
in  Manchester  is  the  manufacturing  system,  with  the 
condition  of  the  operatives,  male  and  female.  To  see 
the  mills  to  the  best  advantage,  we  inquired  for  one 
which  should  be  a  specimen  of  all  the  others,  and  were 
directed  to  an  establishment  owned  and  carried  on  by 
an  enterprising  manufacturer,  who  employs  about  five 
hundred  persons.  The  outside  of  the  mill  was  dingy 
and  dirty,  the  bricks  were  of  a  very  poor  quality,  and 
covered  and  begrimxcd  with  smoke  and  coal  dust.  The 
inside  was  of  unfinished  brick  or  stone ;  the  walls, 
floors,  stairs,  all  of  one  or  the  other  of  these  mate- 
rials ;  no  wood-work  seen  except  in  the  window  frames, 
the  doors,  and  in  the  machinery.  The  floors  were 
slippery  Avith  oil,  the  walls  covered  with  dust  and 
hung  with  cobwebs,  and  the  windows  cracked,  broken, 
and  shattered.  The  operatives  were  generally  younger 
than  those  employed  in  the  mills  in  our  own  country, 
and  would  bear  no  comparison  with  that  industrious, 
cheerful,  and  intelligent  class  of  our  own  j)oj)ulation. 
They  were  very  poorly  dressed,  and  very  dirty.  Man} 
of  them  were  deformed,  and  seemed  to  groan  as  thej 
moved  about,  as  if  in  bodily  anguish.  On  the  coun 
tenances  of  some  there  were  the  marks  of  crime  and 
woe,  the  contemptuous  scowl,  and  the   lewd,  wantop 


MANCHESTER.  47 

smirk.  On  other  countenances  were  the  deep  traces  of 
suffering-  and  wretchedness  ;  care  and  sorrow  had  made 
youth  look  haggard  and  withered  like  age.  The  com- 
parison between  our  own  cotton  manufactories  and 
those  in  Manchester  is  altogether  favorable  to  this 
country.  The  condition  and  character  of  the  opera- 
tives, the  construction  and  convenience  of  the  mills, 
the  compensation  paid  for  labor,  and  the  pleasure  de- 
rived by  the  laborer  from  his  toils,  —  all  far  exceed,  in 
our  system,  the  same  particulars  in  the  English  system. 
I  noticed  that  the  several  rooms  into  which  I  entered 
were  very  poorly  ventilated.  One  large  mill,  with  one 
hundred  and  sixty  windows,  on  one  side,  was  venti- 
lated by  having  several  of  those  windows  thrown  up  a 
few  inches  each.  The  comfort  and  convenience  of  the 
operatives  seem  not  to  have  entered  the  minds  of  the 
employer,  in  many  of  these  establishments  ;  and  as  you 
see  many  of  the  operatives,  with  bare  feet  and  shiver- 
ing limbs,  gliding  over  the  cold  stone  or  brick  floor, 
you  feel  justly  proud  of  the  more  enviable  condition 
of  operatives  in  this  land. 

Connected  with  the  mill  in  which  we  spent  the  most 
time  is  a  school  for  children  over  nine  and  under  thir- 
teen years  of  age,  who  are  taught. gratuitously.  These 
children  are  employed  in  the  mill  a  number  of  hours 
each  day,  the  time  being  limited  by  law.  Connected 
with  this  establishment  were  about  ninety  of  these 
children,  one  half  of  whom  work,  and  the  other  half 
attend  school,  certain  hours  each  day,  so  that  forty- 
five  are  at  school,  and  forty-five  are  at  work,  all  the 
time.  While  we  were  present,  the  children  sung 
several  little  hymns,  and  showed  us '  specimens  of 
their  needlework,  which  would  have  done  no  discredit 
to  persons  of  a  more  mature  age,  and  in  more  elevated 


48  EUROPA. 

life.  The  pleasure  derived  in  visiting  this  school, 
which  appeared  very  much  as  do  primary  schools 
in  New  England  cities,  was  marred  by  a  thought 
of  the  sad  necessity  which  prompted  its  existence. 
The  generous  employer  we  could  praise ;  but  the  very 
pleasure  produced  by  the  contemplation  of  his  benev- 
olence was  mingled  with  the  sad  evidences  that  this 
school  was  but  the  result  of  the  want  of  a  proper 
system  of  general  education,  and  deep,  grinding  pov- 
erty, which  compelled  the  parent  to  send  his  little  child 
into  a  cotton  mill  at  a  very  early  and  tender  age,  ere 
the  constitution  was  able  to  bear  the  fatigue,  exposure, 
and  pain. 

In  looking  through  Manchester,  I  missed  a  most 
important  appendage  to  a  manufacturing  city  —  the 
boarding-houses  for  the  operatives.  Among  us,  long 
brick  edifices  are  erected,  which  have  all  the  outward, 
and  many  of  the  internal,  evideruces  of  luxury  and  ease. 
Operatives  at  night  are  not  driven  away  to  rude  and 
wretched  tenements,  where  poverty  and  filth  rule  and 
ruin,  or  to  the  den  of  infamy,  or  to  the  street,  but  have 
a  comfortable  home  provided.  In  Manchester,  each  girl 
boards  herself  where  best  she  can ;  and  consequently 
many  of  them  scarcely  live  at  all.  When  they  are 
sick,  no  care  is  taken  of  them ;  and  they  die  imcared 
for  and  unmourned.  Vice  must  be  the  product  of 
such  an  arrangement;  and  we  have  no  reason  to  be 
astonished  when  we  are  told  that  many  leave  the  path 
of  rectitude  and  virtue,  and  sink  into  the  depth  of  ruin. 
One  of  the  wisest  and  most  humane  provisions  for  the 
comfort  and  safety  of  operatives  in  our  American  towns 
is  found  in  the  neat,  spacious,  and  even  elegant  board- 
ing-houses, in  the  kind  and  maternal  care  exercised  by 
the  women  who  have  the  charge  of  them,  and  the  wise 


MANCHESTER.  49 

rules  which  are  adopted  by  the  corporations  to  secure 
the  necessary  ends  of  order  and  good  behavior. 

But  Manchester  is  not  famed  for  its  cotton  manufac- 
tures alone.  A  vast  amount  of  machinery  is  turned 
out  every  year,  which  is  carried  to  every  part  of  the 
kingdom.  I  visited  the  Atlas  Machine  Shop,  where 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  men  are  now  employed,  which 
number  is  sometimes  increased  to  twelve  or  fifteen 
hundred.  In  the  first  room,  several  large  locomotives 
were  being  put  together;  and  in  some  twenty  rooms 
or  more,  into  which  we  were  introduced,  all  kinds  of 
work  were  in  progress,  from  the  forgery  and  the  foun- 
dery  which  gleamed,  sparkled,  and  blazed,  to  the  neatly- 
fitted  apartment  where  the  artist  was  executing  his  de- 
signs and  preparing  his  models. 

As  I  passed  out,  I  noticed  a  box  in  the  counting- 
room,  in  a  conspicuous  place,  on  which  was  a  respect- 
ful notice  requesting  the  visitor  to  drop  in  his  tribute 
money  for  the  relief  of  such  of  the  workmen  as  should 
have  the  misfortune  to  be  deprived  of  health.  The 
attendant  informed  us  that,  out  of  the  large  number 
employed,  some  were  sick  all  the  time,  and  that  large 
sums  of  money  were  collected  in  this  way  for  their 
benefit.  I  dropped  in  my  piece  of  money  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,  and  regarded  the  plan  as  a  most 
valuable  one,  Avhich,  perhaps,  might  be  carried  out  to 
advantage  even  in  this  country  of  plenty  and  charity. 

We  closed  our  examinations  of  the  manufacturing 
establishments  by  standing  at  the  gate  of  one  of  the 
mills,  to  see  the  operatives  as  they  came  out.  At  the 
appointed  hour,  the  gates  were  thrown  open,  and  the 
living  stream  came  pouring  forth,  upon  which  we  gazed 
until  we  almost  imagined  we  were  in  Lowell  or  Law- 
rence; nor  were  we  wholly  undeceived  until  the  last 
7  E 


50  EUROPA. 

one  had  passed  from  our  view  into  some  dirty  abode,  to 
swallow  in  haste  an  ill-prepared  meal,  and  we  aroused 
to  see  no  familiar  countenances  and  scenes,  but  to  gaze 
upon  the  strange  streets  and  buildings  of  one  of  the 
cities  of  the  old  world. 

This  much  done,  we  bargained  with  a  hackey  to 
drive  us  about  the  city,  and  show  us  the  lions  of  the 
place.  We  drove  rapidly  out  to  Manchester  College, 
a  fine  edifice,  ornamented  with  turrets,  and  surmounted 
by  a  tower,  and  located  in  a  charming  spot ;  by  St. 
Margaret's  Church,  which  our  driver  (wishing  to  tell 
us  it  did  not  belong  to  the  establishment)  said  was 
independent  of  all  religions ;  to  the  barracks  of  the 
horse  and  foot  soldiers,  quartered  here  to  the  number 
of  several  hundreds,  supported  in  their  lazy  dignity  by 
government ;  to  Salford  Borough  Museum,  a  most  val- 
uable institution,  designed  to  bring  the  means  of  read- 
ing and  recreation  within  the  reach  of  the  poorer 
classes  —  its  halls  filled  with  people  of  the  lower 
order,  its  walls  hung  with  fine  paintings,  its  museums 
of  the  choicest  selections,  its  windows  commanding  an 
extensive  and  beautiful  view,  and  all  brought  by  the 
hand  of  charity  within  the  reach  of  the  poorest  la- 
borer, who  has  not  a  shilling  which  he  can  call  his 
own ;  to  the  Exchange,  one  of  the  largest  rooms  in  Eng- 
land, where  several  hundreds  of  men  were  all  talking 
at  once ;  to  banks,  halls,  and  parks,  —  until  we  began 
to  feel  acquainted  with  the  city  and  its  inhabitants 

There  is  a  cathedral  m  Manchester ;  and  never  hav 
ing  seen  one,  I  was  anxious  to  do  so.  The  old  church 
dignified  by  this  appellation  w^as  built  in  the  time  of 
Henry  VIII.  Exteriorly  it  is  rough,  ragged,  and  un- 
comely. The  architecture  is  of  no  definite  order, 
irregular,   confused,   and    inelegant.      On   the   tower, 


.  I 


MANCHESTER.  51 

several  hideous-looking  images  arc  carved,  their  heads 
protruding,  as  if  so  many  demons  were  glaring  out 
upon  the  churchyard  beneath.  In  entering  the  edi- 
fice, we  pass  through  the  yard,  over  the  fiat  slabs  laid 
down  to  mark  the  graves  of  the  dead.  We  reach  the 
building,  and  pass  through  the  vestibule  into  the  in- 
terior, where  the  floor  is  composed  of  marble  slabs, 
bearing  inscriptions  nearly  effaced  by  time.  The  walls 
are  marred  and  disfigured  by  these  mementoes  of 
death.  The  interior  compares  with  the  exterior,  as  to 
the  confusion  and  irregularity  of  the  architecture.  In 
the  centre  aisle  is  an  eagle,  with  spread  wings,  stand- 
ing on  a  ball.  This  serves  as  a  reading-desk.  Behind 
is  the  chancel,  of  very  ample  proportions,  finely  deco- 
rated, and  very  Popish  in  its  appearance.  On  one  side 
is  a  hox,  called  the  pulpit,  into  which  the  minister 
mounts  when  he  performs  that  very  unimportant  ap- 
pendage to  the  English  church  service  —  the  sermon. 
The  pews  all  bear  the  marks  of  "  a  century  ago." 
They  are  numbered  and  labeled,  according  to  the  rank 
and  grade  of  those  who  occupy  them.  One  was  for  the 
treasurer,  one  for  the  recorder,  and  down  through  all 
the  grades  of  office  in  the  city  government.  The  fam- 
ilies of  these  functionaries  sit  apart,  in  pews  numbered 
and  marked  with  their  distinctive  offices.  One  pew  or 
bench  we  saw  marked  "  the  stranger's  pew."  A  long- 
bench  for  the  church- wardens  bore  the  date  of  1687. 
On  one  side,  under  the  gallery,  was  the  baptismal  font, 
of  white  marble,  with  inscriptions  deemed  appropriate 
by  those  who  placed  them  there,  such  as,  "Not  by 
works  of  righteousness  that  we  have  done,"  &c.  The 
cover  of  this  vessel  was  a  finely-carved  piece  of  wood, 
suspended  by  a  chain  from  the  ceiling  above.  It  was 
spiral  in  its  form,  of  Gothic  order,  and  was  about  six 


52  EUROPA. 

feet  high,  fi'oni  the  top  of  the  hasin.  We  raised  this 
cover,  and  dipped  our  sacrilegious  hands  into  the  font, 
T^-hich  was  filled  with  water,  hut  were  conscious  of  no 
healing  efficacy  being  derived  therefrom.  My  idea  of 
a  cathedral  was  not  realized  in  this  first  specimen; 
and  I  went  awav  thinkino^  I  could  remember  an  old 
church  in  America  more  beautiful  in  my  estunation, 
and  associated  in  my  mind  with  more  hallowed  mem- 
ories, than  this  proud  and  venerable  pile,  which  has 
stood  on  this  spot  so  many  years,  and  to  which  kings 
and  princes  came  to  worship  in  days  of  yore. 

Ha\-ing  been  in  England  a  few  days,  I  began  to 
notice  the  peculiarities  of  the  people.  "We  are  accused 
of  our  "Yankeeisms"  —  our  "I  reckon"  and  "I  guess," 
and  similar  phrases,  which  are  peculiar  to  the  States. 
But  we  soon  became  convinced  that  our  English  friends 
have  nothing  to  reproach  us  with  on  that  score.  On 
inquiring  the  way  to  our  hotel,  we  were  told  that  it 
was  "  a  long  bit  of  a  way  down ; "  or  "a  nice  large 
piece  up  ;  "  or  "  a  big,  long  way  over."  If  at  the  mu- 
seum we  asked  the  name  of  a  certain  bird,  we  were  told 
that  it  was  a  "howl."  Frequently  we  were  told  "the 
hair  hout  was  ot,"  and  "  Prince  Halbert"  was  described 
as  a  nice  young  gentleman.  These  pro\incialisms, 
which  sound  so  strangely  to  our  ears,  are  familiar  to 
them ;  and  our  by-words  and  catch-phrases  are  as  sin- 
gular and  uncomely  in  their  estimation  as  are  theirs  to 
us:  so,  in  these  respects,  the  two  countries  have  no 
reason  to  reproach  each  other. 

Were  I  to  sum  up  my  idea  of  Manchester  in  a  few 
words,  I  should  say  it  was  a  larger  city,  a  more  quiet 
and  orderly  city,  a  neater  and  more  beautiful  city, — 
more  desirable  as  a  place  of  residence,  and  less  odious  on 
account  of  its  crowds  of  paupers,  —  than  I  had  before 


IIANCHESTER.  53 

imagined.  I  think  the  general  impressions  which  exist 
in  many  minds  in  America  in  relation  to  this  city  are 
not  well  founded,  and  a  visit  to  it  would  dissipate 
many  of  the  erroneous  impressions  which  now  prevail 
so  extensively. 

We  left  Manchester  for  Bu'mingham  one  evening 
about  dusk.  Like  lightning,  or  very  certainly  faster 
than  I  ever  rode  before,  we  passed  towns  which  were  so 
far  below  us  that  we  could  look  down  upon  the  roofs 
and  chimneys ;  brooks  and  kittle  ponds,  where,  in  the 
fading  light,  swans  could  be  seen  flapping  in  the  water ; 
green  bowers,  where  children,  whose  forms  could  scarce- 
ly be  seen,  were  at  play,  and  rich  fields  of  grain,  which 
waved  in  the  night  breeze,  or  nestled  in  the  pale  light 
of  the  new  moon  ;  brick  yards,  where  men  and  women 
were  employed ;  iron  founderies,  which  sent  out  their 
lurid  fires  to  render  night  more  dismal ;  until  all  alike 
were  concealed  from  us  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
save  only  some  flashing  fire  from  chimney,  kiln,  or 
foundery,  which  lent  a  dismal  aspect  to  the  suiTound- 
ing  blackness. 


54  EUROPA. 


IV. 

BIRMINGHAai. 

We  arrived  at  Birmingliam  late  at  night,  and  found 
the  streets  full  of  disorderly  and  half-drunken  people. 
Some  kind  of  a  festival  during  the  day  had  given  "  lewd 
fellows  of  the  baser  sort "  ah  unusual  license  to  indul- 
gence, and  we  found  our  way  to  a  hotel  through  clus- 
ters of  profane,  irreligious,  and  abandoned  men  and 
women.  My  first  impressions  of  Birmingham  were 
unfavorable ;  and  I  have  noticed,  in  all  my  journey ings, 
that  first  impressions  are  the  strongest,  and  cling  to 
me  sometimes  after  facts  have  proved  that  they  were 
ill  founded.  These  impressions  were  confirmed  by  a 
conversation  I  had  with  a  policeman,  whom  I  found  in 
front  of  my  hotel,  who  '  gave  me  a  "vdvid  description  of 
some  of  the  scenes  of  crime  in  this  place.  Pointing  to 
a  long,  dark,  narrow  street,  he  said,  "  There  are  more 
crimes  carried  on  and  concealed  in  that  street  than  in 
any  one  of  its  length  in  the  world."  Hence,  I  retired 
to  rest  with  no  very  favorable  idea  of  the  good  habits 
of  the  people  of  Birmingham.  But  the  sun  of  the 
next  morning,  which  arose  bright  and  beautiful,  and 
shed  a  flood  of  gladness  over  the  great  city,  gave  a  more 
favorable  representation  than  did  the  dark  streets  the 
evening  before ;  and  as  I  pursued  my  way  from  one 
public  edifice  to  another,  from  one  great  industrial 
exhibition  to  another,  all  the  impressions  of  the  last 
night  were  effaced  by  the  display  of  beauty,  skill,  and 
wealth  which  meets  the  eye  in  every  direction. 


BIRMINGHAM.  55 

My  first  visit  was  to  the  Papier  Mache  Manufactory, 
where  the  whole  process  was  laid  open  to  us.  The 
manufacture  of  papier  mache  articles  is  much  more 
simple  than  I  had  believed.  The  basis  of  the  work  is 
a  coarse  gray  paper,  four  sheets  of  which  are  pasted 
together  and  dried,  then  four  more,  until  the  substance 
is  of  the  required  thickness.  The  thick  hard  board 
thus  made  is  then  cut  and  cast  into  the  proper  form 
and  size,  and  then  painted  and  coated.  The  pearl  is 
then  glued  on,  and  a  varnish  applied  to  the  whole, 
which  is  rubbed  down  with  pumice  stone,  until  the 
surface  is  even.  Figures  tare  then  drawn  or  painted 
according  to  the  taste  of  the  artist,  after  which  the 
whole  is  washed  and  polished.  In  the  saloon  con- 
nected with  this  establishment,  we  saw  a  great  variety 
of  articles  thus  made,  such  as  chairs,  tables,  chess- 
boards, lounges,  and  ornaments  of  all  descriptions. 

We  next  came  to  the  Electro  Plate  Works  of 
Elkington,  Mason,  &  Co.,  where  the  process  of  plating 
with  silver  and  gold  was  shown  us.  Six  hundred  per- 
sons, mostly  women,  are  here  employed,  and  articles  of 
immense  value  are  continually  being  turned  out.  The 
saloon,  into  which  we  v/ere  shown  by  the  very  gentle- 
manly proprietors,  was  full  of  the  finished  articles, 
forming  a  rich  display,  such  as  can  be  seen  nowhere 
else  in  England.  A  day  we  spent  in  visiting  the 
different  manufactories  of  the  place.  From  the  Electro 
Plate  Manufactory,  we  passed  to  the  Glass  Works,  next 
to  the  Bronze  and  Brass  Works;  then,  to  Gillott's 
Steel  Pen  IManufactory,  and  thus  through  whatever  of 
interest  we  could  discover. 

The  stranger  in  Birmingham  is  urged  to  visit  the 
Town  Hall,  said  to  be  the  most  spacious  room  in 
England.      It  is  built  from  the  model  of   an  ancient 


56  EUROPA. 

Grecian  temple.  It  stands  upon  a  rough,  coarse  base- 
ment, on  which  rise  beautiful  marble  columns,  each 
weighing  twenty-six  tuns,  and  being  thirty-six  feet  high, 
forming  one  of  the  most  beautiful  exteriors  seen  in 
England.  The  hall  is  one  hundred  and  forty-five  feet 
long,  sixty-five  broad,  and  sixty-five  high,  making  six 
hundred  thousand  cubic  feet,  and  is  capable  of  seating 
nearly  five  thousand  persons,  and  standing  an  indefi- 
nite number  of  others. 

In  this  hall  is  an  immense  organ,  which  is  thus 
described  by  an  inhabitant  of  Birmingham :  "  The  organ 
case  is  forty  feet  wide,  fort^irfive  feet  high,  and  seven 
teen  feet  deep.  The  largest  wood  pipe  measures,  in  the 
interior,  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  cubic  feet.  The 
bellows  of  the  organ  contains  three  hundred  square 
feet  of  surface,  and  upwards  of  three  tuns  weight  upon 
the  bellows  are  required  to  give  the  necessary  pressure. 
It  is  calculated  that  the  trackers  in  the  organ,  if  laid 
out  in  a  straight  line,  would  reach  above  five  miles. 
There  are  seventy-eight  draw  stops,  four  sets  of  keys, 
and  above  four  thousand  pipes.  The  weight  of  the 
instrument  is  about  forty  tuns ;  it  cost  about  four  thou- 
sand pounds,  and  in  the  depth,  power,  variety,  and 
sweetness  of  its  tone,  far  surpasses  any  in  Europe." 
This  latter  assertion  is  a  matter  of  doubt,  inasmuch  as 
there  are  one  or  two  others  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  this. 

From  the  hall  I  found  my  way  to  the  grammar 
school  founded  by  Edward  VI.,  in  1552.  The  build- 
ing used  by  this  school  is  a  fine  Gothic  edifice,  of  very 
elaborate  design,  quadrangular  in  form,  with  a  front 
one  hundred  and  seventy-four  feet  long,  and  was  erected 
at  a  cost  of  about  forty  thousand  pounds.  The  school 
is  divided  into  two  departments,  one  fin'  the  study 
of  the  English  branches,  and  the  other  for  the  classics. 


BIRMINGHAM.  57 

This  school  was  founded,  and  originally  supported,  by 
the  income  of  a  piece  of  land  amounting  to  but  thirty- 
one  pounds.  In  consequence  of  improvements  being 
made  on  and  around  it,  the  income  has  now  increased 
to  seven  thousand  pounds.  About  five  hundred  boys 
are  here  educated,  without  expense  to  their  parents,  by 
one  principal  and  twelve  or  fifteen  assistants.  The 
principal  received  us  with  much  courtesy,  and  con- 
ducted us  through  the  various  apartments.  His  salary 
is  four  hundred  pounds.  This  school  forms  a  most 
noble  charity,  and  is  one  of  the  ornaments  of  that  great 
city.  There  are  four  othei"*  schools,  which,  in  a  city 
of  about  two  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  inhab- 
itants, give  instruction  to  about  one  thousand  children, 
on  the  same  foundation. 

As  I  left  the  school,  and  passed  along  to  St.  Martin's 
Church,  which  was  said  to  be  a  curiosity  in  its  way,  I  saw 
the  celebrated  statue  of  Nelson,  in  bronze,  which  was 
executed  nearly  a  half  century  ago,  at  an  expense  of 
about  twenty-five  hundred  pounds.  Statues  of  Nelson 
may  be  found  all  over  England,  as  thick  as  gods  in 
India.  He  is  the  naval  hero  of  the  nation,  and  "  Nile  " 
and  "  Trafalgar"  are  names  known  to. the  most  ignorant 
children  in  the  highways.  His  notable  words,  "  Eng- 
land expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty,"  form  the  motto 
of  thousands,  and  are  inscribed  on  marble  and  engraved 
in  brass  and  iron. 

We  arrived  at  the  old  church,  which  was  built  about 
nine  hundred  years  ago,  by  William  de  Birmmgham. 
It  was  cased  with  brick  about  two  hundred  years  ago, 
to  keep  it  from  falling  down.  The  most  notable  things 
about  this  church  are  the  efiigies  in  marble,  as  large  as 
life,  which  are  supposed  to  have  been  made  about  ten 
centuries  ago,  and  are  here  preserved.  Very  curious 
8 


58  EUROPA. 

would  they  be  in  some  museum  of  antiquities,  but  in  a 
Christian  church  are  only  deformities,  which  turn  the 
mind  of  the  worshiper  away  from  the  true  God.  As 
I  stood  in  this  venerable  structure,  and  looked  up  to  its 
crumbling  walls,  the  brevity  of  man  impressed  itself 
most  powerfully  upon  my  mind.  Here,  I  thought,  is  an 
edifice  which  has  outlived  its  designer,  and  all  who  saw 
it  rise ;  and  even  the  page  of  history  does  not  tell  when 
its  foundations  were  laid,  while  brief  man  continues 
only-  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  then  decays.  There 
are  some  singularly  constructed  and  singularly  named 
churches  in  all  the  old  Eftglish  towns.  I  frequently 
saw  churches  called  by  the  following  names :  "  All 
Saints,"  "  St.  Catharine's,"  "  St.  George's,"  "  St.  Bride's," 
"  St.  Sepulcher  s,"  and  one  or  two  blasphemously  bore 
the  name  of  "  St.  Savior." 

As  my  object  in  traveling  was  more  to  see  men  than 
things,  I  inquired  one  evening  for  some  place  of  literary 
entertainment,  or  religious  worship,  and  was  informed 
that  Rev.  John  Angell  James  was  to  preach  in  his 
lecture-room  in  Carr's  Street.  I  foimd  the  place,  and 
went  into  a  small  room,  dingy  in  appearance,  irregular 
in  form,  poorly  lighted.  The  people  were  singing  as  I 
entered,  all  over  the  house,  in  one  of  the  most  harmo- 
nious discords  I  ever  heard.  Mr.  James  was  in  the 
pulpit  ;  he  is  about  si:?^ty  years  of  age,  inclining 
slightly  to  corpulency.  His  hair  is  gray,  his  counte- 
nance full,  and  beaming  with  English  good  nature. 
He  is  not  like  our  lean,  pale,  cadaverous  looking 
clergymen,  who  glide  like  specters  into  their  pulpits, 
and  squeak  out  a  dolorous  sound  which  they  call  a 
sermon,  and  retire,  as  their  congregation  sometimes 
imagine,  to  their  tombs,  but  a  robust  Englishman,  who 
looked  as  well  able  to  hold  the  plough,  or  eat  a  dinner, 
as  to  write  a  sermon. 


BIRMINGHAM.  59 

His  text,  on  this  occasion,  was  from  Isaiah.  His 
theme,  as  near  as  I  could  discover,  was,  the  presence 
of  God  the  joy  of  the  church.  This  was  treated  under 
two  general  divisions :  1.  God  in  the  church,  {a.)  By 
the  mediation  of  Christ,  {h.)  By  His  providences, 
(c.)  By  His  Holy  Spirit.  2.  The  duty  of  the  Christian 
to  rejoice  in  this  fact,  {a.)  Because  the  condition  of 
the  church  is  secure.  (6.)  Because  her  progress  is 
onward.  (  c.)  Her  ultimate  triumph  is  certain.  This 
discourse  was  evidently  delivered  without  much  previ- 
ous preparation.  The  style  was  heavy  and  lumberous, 
and  I  left  the  chapel  disappointed.  Had  this  been  my 
only  opportunity  of  hearing  this  distinguished  man,  I 
should  have  regretted  that  I  heard  him  at  all.  But 
when  I  listened  to  him  afterwards,  in  Exeter  Hall  and 
other  places,  all  I  had  ever  anticipated  in  his  eloquence 
was  more  than  realized. 

At  the  close  of  the  service,  I  had  a  few  minutes' 
conversation  with  him.  His  conversational  powers  are 
great;  he  inquired  about  our  country  vdi\i  much  in- 
terest, and  said,  "  All  the  world  is  looking  to  Amer- 
ica." He  evidently  has  few  of  those  feelings  common 
to  the  people  of  England,  which  lead  them  to  look 
down  with  contempt  upon  any  thing  and  any  person 
from  America.  His  comprehensive  mind  looks  upon 
the  vast  extent  and  rising  energy  of  the  new  world 
with  a  pleasure  and  solicitude  which  indicate  his  ac- 
quaintance with  our  institutions  and  prospects.  And 
here  I  may  remark,  that  I  found  throughout  England 
a  great  degree  of  ignorance,  among  people  generally 
well  informed,  in  relation  to  our  country.  The  people 
are  acquainted  with  the  plans  and  politics  of  France, 
Austria,  Russia,  and  other  European  nations,  but  seem 
to  be  almost  entirely  destitute  of  information  as  to 


60  EUKOPA. 

our  geography,  institutions,  and  progress.  The  gen- 
eral tone  of  remark  in  many  circles  would  indicate 
that  the  people  of  America  are  but  a  step  removed 
from  barbarism,  descendants  of  Indians  ^ — Indians  them- 
selves, slightly  improved.  A  few  instances  of  this  will 
show  my  meaning.  In  conversation,  one  day,  with  a 
well-educated  physician  of  London,  our  remarks  turned 
upon  the  modes  of  living  in  America ;  and  one  thing 
leading  to  another,  I  was  soon  aware  that  my  kind  and 
intelligent  host  believed  that  Americans,  instead  of 
rising  and  quietly  retiring  from  the  table  after  dinner, 
would  throAV  their  feet  upon  the  board,  and,  if  they 
wished,  spit  across,  on,  or  under  the  table,  as  was  most 
convenient.  The  habit  of  spitting  is  considered  pecu- 
liarly odious,  and  peculiarly  American ;  and  many  per- 
sons imagine  that  we  are  in  the  vulgar  habit  of  spit- 
ting in  the  pulpit,  at  the  table,  on  ladies'  dresses,  and 
in  the  hats  of  friends.  But  as  vulgar  as  the  habit  is, 
and  as  prevalent  among  us  as  it  may  be,  it  cannot  be 
more  objectionable  to  them  than  the  vulgar  habit  of 
snuff-taking,  which  prevails  in  Europe,  is  to  us.  I 
have  seen  snuff  taken  in  the  stage,  in  the  family,  in 
the  store,  at  the  table,  and  in  the  pulpit,  by  men  who 
make  the  highest  claim  to  gentility  and  fashionable 
education.  A  distinguished  clergyman  in  Paris,  on  the 
day  when  I  went  to  hear  him,  paused  at  the  close  of 
every  division  of  an  able  discourse,  and  deliberately 
drawing  his  snuff-box  from  his  pocket,  used  its  con- 
tents, and  then  went  to  preaching  again  as  furiously  as 
a  farmer  would  go  to  mowing  after  a  potent  dram. 

Of  our  geography  they  seem  to  know  as  little  as  of 
our  habits.  A  clergyman  asked  me  one  day  if  New 
England  was  in  Massachusetts.  Had  I  asked  him  if 
Europe   was   in   Italy,   he   would   have   ridiculed   my 


BIRMINGHAM.  61 

ignorance^  and  justly  too ;  and  yet  my  question  would 
have  been  as  reasonable  as  his.  A  gentleman  who  was 
presiding  at  a  temperance  meeting  in  Exeter  Hall  — 
the  editor  of  a  London  paper  —  introduced  a  speaker 
as  from  Portland,  Massachusetts.  He  was  corrected; 
but,  making  another  blunder,  he  said,  "  The  gentleman 
is  from  3Iainc,  Massachusetts."  Should  the  presiding 
officer  of  a  meeting  in  America  introduce  a  speaker 
as  from  Scotland,  England,  the  children  present  would 
smile  at  his  ignorance ;  and  yet  the  moderator  of  a  meet- 
ing in  England  feels  no  blush  if  he  makes  such  a  mis- 
take with  reference  to  our  country.  You  may  remem- 
ber that,  on  one  occasion,  Mr.  Webster  was  spoken  of 
by  a  distinguished  Englishman  as  a  "  member  of  the 
Upper  Senate  of  New  York"  —  a  blunder  very  pardon- 
able m  a  child  or  an  ignoramus,  but  not  in  a  statesman 
or  a  man  of  letters. 

One  day,  on  the  platform  of  Exeter  Hall,  I  met 
with  a  distinguished  member  of  the  society  of  Friends. 
He  asked  where  I  was  from,  and  who  I  was,  and  added, 
"  Why,  thee  talk  our  language  as  w^ell  as  we  do" — the 
poor  man  evidently  thinking  we  used  here  the  dialect 
of  the  Indians,  or  the  brogue  of  the  Irish,  when  the  fact 
is,  the  English  language  is  used  nowhere  in  the  world 
with  as  much  purity  as  in  New  England ;  and  of  this 
fact  all  Englishmen  who  have  ever  visited  our  country 
are  aware.  I  repeatedly  heard  the  remark,  Avhen  I  in- 
formed friends  with  whom  I  became  acquainted  where  I 
was  from,  "  Why,  you"  are  no  darker  than  our  people !  " 
or  "  You  are  as  light  as  an  Englishman  !  "  —  as  if  they 
expected  I  was  of  a  copper  color,  when  all  the  blood 
which  flows  in  my  veins  I  have  derived  from  an  Eng- 
lish ancestry.  In  the  great  exhibition,  in  the  depart- 
ment of  America,  are  two  model  Indians,  adorned  in 


62  EUROPA. 

all  the  quills,  feathers,  and  laces  of  an  Indian  chief  and 
his  wife,  or  squaw.  An  intelligent-looking  lady  one 
day  was  overheard  to  ask  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  with  all  apparent  seriousness,  if  "  all  Amer- 
icans were  like  these." 

If  I  should  say  that  this  ignorance  of  and  prejudice 
against  America  was  found  in  all  circles,  it  would  not 
be  true.  Where  America  is  known,  she  is  appreciated ; 
and  among  all  the  people  of  different  nations,  I  have 
found  none  more  agreeable  and  kind  than  our  English 
friends.  When  once  you  get  under  the  cold,  icy,  out- 
side crust  of  English  life,  you  find  the  finest  and  most 
delightful  society  in  the  world. 

But  we  return  to  Birmingham.  To  its  credit  be  it 
said,  it  has,  with  its  two  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
inhabitants,  about  sixty  churches,  some  fifty  of  which 
are  evangelical,  and  but  few  theaters ;  many  pious  min- 
isters, and  few  preachers  of  error;  many  scenes  of 
pure  and  reasonable  recreation,  and  very  few  which  are 
degrading  and  vicious.  It  is  one  vast  workshop  —  one 
industrial  exhibition,  in  which  all  trades  are  represented. 
Here  may  be  found  all  kinds  of  iron  work,  glass  works, 
tin  and  brass  works,  button  manufactories,  pin  and  pen 
factories,  electro  plating,  papier  mache  working,  India 
rubber  works,  manufactories  where  fire-arms,  metallic 
furniture,  cloth,  and  almost  every  other  namable  article 
is  produced  in  the  most  finished  manner,  and  in  the 
largest  quantities. 

Nor  does  the  stranger  find  the  country  surrounding 
Birmingham  to  be  destitute  of  interest.  Out  at  a  little 
distance  is  Coventry,  and  the  old  ruins  of  Kenilworth 
Castle,  and  Warwick  Castle  and  town,  in  which  still 
remain  the  evidences  of  fonner  greatness  —  the  halls 
where  kings  and  queens  reveled  in  luxury.     Still  beyond 


filRMINGHAM.  63 

is  Stratford-on-Avon,  the  birthplace  of  William  Shak- 
speare,  with  the  old  house  in  which  he  was  born  still 
standing.  Still  farther  off  is  Dudley  Castle,  memorable 
in  the  history  of  the  past,  and  living  with  the  associa- 
tions which  link  the  past  to  the  present  and  the  future 
Indeed,  every  inch  of  ground  in  this  vicinity  is  historic  ■ 
every  cliff,  and  hill,  and  vale  bring  to  mind  some  scene 
of  glory  or  shame  of  which  poets  have  sung,  or  over 
which  orators  have  grown  eloquent. 

We  left  Birmingham  early  one  morning  for  London, 
the  Babylon  of  modern  times ;  and  into  that  great  city 
our  readers,  in  the  next  chapter,  will  be  taken. 


64  EUROPA. 


V. 

GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON. 

One  day,  about  ten  o'clock  in  tlie  morning,  I  found 
myself  in  a  London  omnibus,  rolling  away  from  the 
railroad  station,  towards  I  knew  not  where,  near  the 
center  of  the  great  city.  Where  we  were  "  put  down  " 
mattered  little  to  myself  and  associates.  We  had  no 
home ;  and  one  part  of  the  city  was  as  likely  to  afford 
us  a  stopping-place  as  another.  The  streets  were 
blocked  up  with  carriages  and  cabs,  and  crowds  of 
busy  men  were  moving  to  and  fro.  Now  we  were 
obliged  to  wait  imtil  the  street-way  could  be  cleared ; 
and  anon  we  were  dashing  on  by  proud  churches,  well- 
filled  stores,  and  grand  residences.  Near  the  Bank  we 
left  the  "  bus,"  and  commenced  our  search  for  a  tem- 
porary home.  We  soon  found  that  we  could  live  any 
where,  and  at  any  price;  for,  notwithstanding  the 
crowded  state  of  the  city,  we  found  "apartments  to 
let "  in  great  abundance.  We  soon  engaged  lodgings, 
including  breakfast,  service,  &c.,  for  three  shillings  and 
eightpence  per  day.  Under  this  arrangement,  we  were 
to  find  our  dinner  and  tea  where  we  could,  which  usu- 
ally cost  about  three  shillings  more,  making  our  daily 
expense  six  shillings  and  eightpence.  To  this  was  to 
be  added  the  expense  of  washing,  sight-seeing,  riding, 
and^  other  extras,  which  we  found,  notwithstanding  the 
cheapness  of  our  board,  to  amount  to  a  considerable 
sum  by  the  close  of  the  week. 


GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON.  65 

My  companions,  being  somewhat  particular  as  to 
what  they  ate  and  where  they  slept,  determined  to 
make  an  effort  to  improve  our  condition,  and  forthwith 
commenced  a  most  amusing  search  for  a  new  abode. 
One  of  the  visits  which  we  made,  one  morning,  I  may 
as  well  describe.  Seeing  a  notice  on  the  window  of  a 
house  on  G —  Street,  informing  the  public  that  "  rooms 
were  to  be  let,"  we  inquired.  An  elderly  lady,  stiff  and 
starched,  opened  the  door,  and  in  a  shrill  tone  inquired 
what  we  wanted.  Our  first  business  was  to  examine 
the  lady.  "We  eyed  her  from  head  to  foot  —  from  her 
cap,  which  was  none  of  the  cleanest,  and  that  covered 
a  head  which  certainly  had  not  been  too  neighborly 
with  the  comb,  down  to  the  shoe,  which,  as  she  walked, 
went  up  and  down,  down  and  up,  in  heelless  propriety. 
Having  satisfied  ourselves  on  this  point,  we  were  shown 
up  over  a  narrow  and  crazy  staircase,  into  a  bed-room, 
which  we  were  informed  would  do  for  two.  The  bed 
was  a  small  one;  but  our  persevering  hostess  surveyed 
us  leisurely,  and  decided  that  one  of  my  companions 
and  myself  could  occupy  it  comfortably  —  on  the  prin- 
ciple, I  suppose,  that  he,  being  a  man  of  aldermanic 
proportions,  could  occupy  two  thirds,  while  I,  being  of 
much  smaller  dimensions,  could  content  myself  with 
the  other  third.  The  room  was  also  small ;  but  here 
our  Yankee  ingenuity  suggested  a  plan  by  which  all 
difficulty  arising  from  this  might  be  obviated,  which 
simply  was,  that  each  could  use  it  half  of  the  time. 
So  far  so  good.  We  now  began  to  inquire  what  could 
be  done  for  our  companion ;  for  we  were  three.  We 
were  escorted  into  another  room,  which  was  to  be  our 
parlor,  and  in  the  middle  of  which  was  a  rickety  sofa, 
on  which  were  some  bed-clothes.  This  was  the  bed  for 
the  thii'd.  Now,  it  happened  that,  while  the  bed  was 
9  F* 


66  EUROPA. 

very  short,  the  man  was  very  long.  But  we  measured 
(with  the  eye)  the  bed,  and  then  the  man,  and  finally 
concluded  that,  with  a  few  crooks  and  turns  of  the 
lower  limbs,  he  could  be  made  to  stay  thereon  ;  and  we 
pronounced  it  "  very  good."  But  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  we  should  be  received  without  some  inquiry 
into  our  plans  and  characters ;  and  the  good  lady  began 
to  ask  who  we  were,  and  what  we  wanted  in  the  great 
city.  The  rules  of  her  house,  she  said,  were  strict : 
she  had  some  boarders  already,  who  were  very  correct 
in  their  habits,  among  whom  were  two  persons  con- 
nected with  the  "  gentry,"  which  she  thought  a  great 
inducement  for  us  to  stop  with  her.  We  had  been  in 
London  so  short  a  time,  that  we  had  seen  none  of  the 
gentry ;  and  you  may  judge  how  much  this  fact  must 
have  weighed  with  us.  In  re]3ly  to  all  her  questions, 
we  told  her  that  we  were  three  very  modest,  amiable 
men  from  America,  who  had  come  over  to  see  the 
Fair ;  that  we  were  clergymen,  and,  of  course,  would 
keep  very  good  hours,  and  behave  properly ;  that  we 
were  very  well-bred  men,  and  would  endeavor  not  to 
offend  the  delicate  ears  of  the  "  gentry "  whom  we 
might  meet  at  her  house.  We  left  the  door  with  the 
remark,  that,  if  we  decided  to  make  her  house  our 
home,  we  would  call  again  in  a  few  hours. 

I  will  not  tell  you  how  many  visits  like  this  we  made, 
before,  a  few  days  afterwards,  we  found  ourselves  lo- 
cated in  the  family  of  a  fine,  intelligent  English  woman, 
in  Arundel  Street,  within  a  walk  of  five  minutes  of 
Exeter  Hall  on  one  side,  and  St.  Paul's  on  the  other  — 
midway  between  the  Strand,  flowing  with  life,  and  full 
of  beauty,  and  "  old  Father  Thames,"  covered  with  gay 
steamers,  and  alive  with  its  busy  industry.  Here  our 
expenses  were  slightly  more  than  at  the  place  where 
we  stopped  on  our  arrival. 


GENEEAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON.  67 

Being  now  comfortably  settled,  we  began  to  look 
around,  and  attend  to  the  objects  of  interest  which 
every  where  presented  themselves.  London  is  a  won- 
derful city,  forming,  mth  its  environs,  a  vast  mass  of 
buildings,  packed  in  and  piled  up,  and  crowded  with 
people.  "  You  can  travel,"  says  one,  "  eighteen  miles, 
from  Brentford  to  Strafford,  through  an  uninterrupted 
succession  of  thickly-planted  houses."  The  city  of 
London  itself  is  a  very  small  spot,  with  St.  Paul's  for 
its  center,  extending  in  one  direction  to  Temple  Bar, 
and  in  the  other  to  Aldgate.  The  lord  mayor  presides 
over  this  little  territory,  while  the  city  of  Westminster, 
the  Tower  Hamlets,  and  the  different  boroughs,  are 
under  other  administrations.  But  while  the  city  is 
small,  London,  in  the  aggregate,  is  a  vast  and  densely- 
populated  territory,  stretching  east  and  west  eleven 
miles,  and  north  and  south  six  miles,  lying  on  both 
sides  of  the  River  Thames,  linked  together  by  bridges 
of  wood,  stone,  and  iron ;  having  within  its  limits, 
according  to  the  nicest  calculations,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  houses,  two  million  and  one  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants,  with  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  thousand  visitors,  constantly  coming  and  going, 
swelling  the  mighty  tide  of  life  which  is  ever  sur- 
ging in  and  out  of  the  open  gates.  I  have  walked 
along  the  streets  for  hours,  bewildered  with  the  din  and 
confusion  of  the  scene.  The  impressions  which  I 
received  as  a  man  were  very  much  like  the  impressions 
which  I  received  as  a  child,  when  I  first  visited  a  great 
manufacturing  establishment.  The  noise,  the  hurry, 
the  confusion  of  the  whole  scene,  arrested  the  current 
of  life,  and  I  felt  awed  as  I  gazed  upon  the  revolving 
wheels,  and  hard-working  engines,  products  of  the 
genius  of  man.      And  when  I  roanied  day  after  day 


68  EUROPA. 

along  the  streets,  through  the  crowded  thoroughfares, 
up  the  little  alleys,  and  down  the  obscure  lanes  of  the 
great  metropolis,  all  alive  wdth  industry,  and  moving 
with  human  beings,  I  felt  awed  by  the  imposing  mag- 
nitude of  the  spectacle. 

Some  of  the  streets  of  London  are  wide  and  spa- 
cious ;  others  are  narrow,  overhung  with  warehouses, 
and  abound  in  filth  and  wretchedness.  Along  some, 
armies  might  move  by  companies  and  regiments ;  while 
in  others,  two  wheelbarrows  might  find  it  hard  to  pass. 
Some  of  these  streets  are  straight,  and  some  crooked  in 
all  directions  ;  some  running  on  for  miles,  and  some 
short  and  dark ;  some  containing  the  abodes  of  nobles, 
and  some  the  hovels  of  thieves  and  beggars. 

The  parks  of  London,  which  are  very  numerous  and 
finely  laid  out,  and  which  have  been  called  the  "  lungs 
of  the  city,"  are  open  during  the  day,  and  furnish 
places  of  exercise  and  recreation  for  thousands  of 
the  people.  These  parks  are  decorated  with  flowers, 
trees,  and  ponds,  and  appear  like  gardens  in  the  midst 
of  palaces.  The  wisdom  of  the  government  in  saving 
these  open  grounds  from  the  encroachments  of  com- 
merce and  mdustry,  and  keeping  them  devoted  to  health 
and  recreation,  is  apparent.  Hyde  Park  is  the  largest, 
and  contains  four  hundred  acres.  Through  it  flows 
the  Ser]3entine,  on  which  little  pleasure  boats  are  seen 
gliding  about,  and  aquatic  birds  amuse  themselves,  and 
furnish  sport  for  the  beholder. 

The  public  gardens  at  Kensington,  and  in  Regent's 
Park,  and  in  other  places,  are  open  summer  and  winter, 
and  draw  great  crowds  ;  in  summer  to  enjoy  the  shady 
walks,  and  in  winter  to  find  amusement  and  instruction 
in  the  zoological  exhibitions  which  are  held  there. 

In  the  parks,  and  indeed  all  over  London,   noble 


GENERAL  VIEW    OF  LONDON.  69 

statues  and  monumental  piles,  to  commemorate  illustri- 
ous deeds,  and  perpetuate  illustrious  names,  are  found, 
which  add  remarkably  to  the  beauty  of  the  city.  In 
Trafalgar  Square  rises  a  most  beautiful  column,  — 

"  Designed  for  Nelson  of  the  Nile, 
Of  Trafalgar,  and  Vincent's  heights  — 
For  Nelson  of  the  hundred  fights." 

In  Carlton  Gardens  rises  the  noble  column  of  the 
Duke  of  York,  on  which  a  bronze  statue  of  the  old 
man  stands  looking  down  from  the  elevation  of  one 
hundred  and  twenty-four  feet,  upon  the  moving  crowds 
below. 

In  Fish  Street  is  a  Doric  shaft,  two  hundred  and  two 
feet  high,  erected  in  commemoration  of  the  great  fire 
which,  in  1666,  swept  with  desolating  fury  through 
the  city,  reducing  it  to  a  heap  of  smouldering  ruins. 
Around  its  base,  life  swarms,  heaves,  and  surges,  while 
above  is  seen  an  urn  of  blazing  fire,  which  glistens  in 
the  sun,  and  is  the  expressive  memento  of  a  conflagra- 
tion such  as  Europe  never  saw  in  a  time  of  peace 
before.  Besides,  there  are  many  columns  and  statues, 
in  stone  and  bronze,  of  Nelson,  Wellington,  the  kings 
and  queens  of  the  past  and  the  present,  orators  and 
statesmen,  warriors  and  priests,  which  rise  all  over  the 
city,  like  so  many  expressions  of  living  gratitude  to 
departed  worth. 

The  people  of  London  have  sufficient  amusement. 
Exeter  Hall  is  open  almost  every  evening  for  some 
kind  of  entertainment.  Oratarios  and  concerts  are  held 
every  week,  and  sometimes  every  evening  of  the  week. 
Public  lectures  of  a  literary  and  scientific  character  are 
advertised  in  every  paper.  Churches  are  open  at  almost 
all   hours  ;     twenty-one    theaters,   as    the   guide-books 


70  EUROPA. 

inform  us,  are  in  full  operation.  Exhibitions  of  paint- 
ings, panoramas,  and  dioramas  are  placarded  on  every 
corner.  Wax  figures,  bronze  work,  marble  statuary, 
are  presented  for  the  examination  and  patronage  of  the 
people.  Public  gardens,  in  which  are  many  pleasures 
during  the  day,  and  music  and  fireworks  in  the  even- 
ing, are  continually  open ;  while  performances  of  a 
lower  character,  immoral,  beastly,  and  degrading,  are 
held  covertly  and  in  concealment.  Whatever  may  be 
a  man's  taste,  he  can  find  something  which  will  accord 
with  it ;  whatever  may  be  his  inclination,  he  can  find 
something  to  gratify  it.  He  can  select  the  purest  soci- 
ety and  pleasures,  the  most  refined  and  delicate  enjoy- 
ment, or  plunge  down  into  the  depths  of  shame  and 
infamy.  He  can  feast  his  soul  on  the  refinement  and 
delight  of  literature  and  religion,  or  he  can  bury  himself 
in  the  shades  of  crime,  and  conceal  himself  in  dens  of 
vice,  into  which  the  sun  does  not  penetrate  at  noonday. 
Of  the  public  buildings  of  London  I  have  but 
little  time  to  speak :  some  will  come  up  hereafter, 
others  will  be  passed  over  altogether.  Let  us  walk 
around  the  city,  directing  our  steps  to  objects  of  the 
greatest  interest.  We  are  in  front  of  the  Bank  of 
England,  an  imposing  structure,  built  in  imitation  of 
the  Temple  of  Venus  at  Tivoli.  Men  in  gold  and 
scarlet  question  us  as  we  pass  up,  and  servants  in  buff 
coats,  red  vests,  dark  pants,  and  a  bank  medal  attached 
to  one  of  the  buttons,  XDolitely  conduct  us  through  the 
premises.  AVe  find  this  pile  of  buildings  to  cover  a 
somewhat  irregular  area  of  eight  acres,  built  in  the 
most  secure  and  durable  manner,  and  filled  with  offi- 
cers and  clerks,  who  are  actively  engaged.  About  one 
thousand  men  are  employed  as  clerks,  porters,  and 
watchmen.     At  night,  forty  soldiers  are  on  the  ground, 


GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON.  71 

and  every  measure  taken  to  prevent  robbery.  "We  see 
here  men  counting  out  bills  to  a  vast  amount,  shoveling 
gold  like  pebbles,  and  handling  money  as  if  it  were  a 
useless  thing.  We  pass  through  some  sixty  depart- 
ments, where  all  the  various  branches  of  banking  are 
performed,  from  the  stamping  of  the  paper  to  the 
distribution  of  it  to  the  people.  In  the  vaults  below 
the  ground,  bars  of  gold,  and  checks  which  have  been 
drawn,  one  by  government  to  the  amount  (I  think)  of 
one  million  of  pounds,  are  shown  us,  and  we  pass  from 
place  to  place  with  no  little  wonder  at  the  magnitude 
of  the  operation.  Vast  as  the  whole  is,  the  most  per- 
fect order  prevails.  Each  one  knows  his  own  business, 
and  attends  to  it ;  and  like  the  clock  which  indicates  the 
time  on  sixteen  diiFerent  dials  in  as  many  rooms,  so  is 
all  this  vast  human  machinery  moved  by  one  man, 
who  is  at  the  head,  and  presides  over  all.  We  are  told 
that  the  expense  of  carrying  on  this  great  banking 
operation  is  about  two  hundred  and  twentyv,thousand 
pounds  annually.  The  whole  is  on  a  scale  of  grandeur 
and  magnificence  unequaled  by  any  banking  institution 
in  the  world. 

We  next  wend  our  way  to  the  British  Museum,  one 
of  the  finest  buildings  in  London,  as  yet  scarcely  com- 
pleted, situated  in  Bloomsbury.  Here  the  visitor  must 
spend  many  an  hour,  if  he  would  see  to  any  valuable 
purpose  this  wonderful  collection.  W^e  pass  from 
gallery  to  gallery,  from  hall  to  hall,  from  saloon  to  sa- 
loon, in  our  pleasing  task.  In  one  gallery  we  find  the 
relics  discovered  by  Layard  at  Nimroud,  brought  here 
at  an  immense  expense ;  colossal  heads ;  monuments 
on  which  unread  inscriptions  yet  appear ;  idols  of  huge 
proportions  and  fanciful  construction ;  chariots  and 
horsemen.      In    other    departments,    we   see   splendid 


72  EUBOPA. 

collections  of  bii-ds,  fi-om  the  tiny  hummingbird  to  the 
bald  eagle,  from  the  goldfinch  to  the  peacock  ;  ani- 
mals, from  the  mouse  to  the  elephant,  the  walrus,  and 
the  mastadon ;  human  skeletons  embedded  in  lime- 
stone ;  Egyptian  remains  in  vast  yariety ;  mummies, 
some  as  they  were  brought  from  the  land  of  mythology ; 
others  partly  unrolled,  and  others  entirely  exposed. 
Eyery  age  and  clime  haye  sent  contributions  to  this 
great  collection,  and  here,  daily,  antiquarians,  artists, 
and  scholars  come  to  study  out  the  mysterious  lines 
which  are  written  on  eyery  featui-e  of  the  past.  The 
library  connected  with  the  Museum  is  the  largest  in  the 
world.  It  contains  more  than  one  million  yolumes,  ten 
thousand  maps,  thirty  thousand  manuscripts,  and  a  great 
yariety  of  seals,  parchments,  and  papers.  A  large  part 
of  it  was  giyen  to  the  British  nation  by  George  IV., 
and  is  well  selected,  possessing  great  yalue,  independ- 
ent of  the  number  of  yolumes.  Here  are  the  original 
manuscripts  of  Tasso,  Pope's  Iliad,  the  works  of  rare 
Ben  Jonson  ;  also  letters  written  by  Xapoleon,  Catha- 
rine de'  Medici,  Peter  the  Great,  Xelson,  Mary  of  the 
Scots,  the  yarious  kings  of  France,  Washington,  Bacon, 
Locke,  Xewton,  Dryden,  Addison,  Franklin,  Voltaire, 
Erasmus,  Luther,  Knox,  Calyin,  Cranmer,  Latimer, 
Melancthon,  W'olsey,  Leibnitz,  and  others.  One  feels, 
as  he  gazes  upon  the  autographs  of  great  men,  who 
haye  moyed  the  world,  some  by  the  sword,  and  some 
by  the  tongue,  and  some  by  the  pen,  that  he  is  com- 
muning with  the  buried  past.  His  mind  is  borne  back  to 
other  days,  and  he  sweeps  with  Xapoleon  oyer  the  field 
of  blood ;  shouts  with  Cromwell,  "  God  and  religion," 
as  he  rushes  to  the  charge  ;  stands  with  Luther  before 
the  diet,  and  pleads  nobly  for  the  great  rights  of  con- 
science ;  or  sits  down  and  gazes  oyer  the  shoulder  of 


GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON.  73 

Cahiii,  as  he  composes  the  Institutes  in  his  cheerless 
study  in  Geneva.  It  would  requu'e  more  than  one  day 
to  describe  what  was  seen  in  the  British  Musuem,  and 
many  days  to  utter  the  sentiments  to  which  that  exhi- 
bition gave  rise.  It  is  a  noble  institution,  and  nobly 
conducted.  \Yith  the  usual  generosity  of  the  English, 
the  doors  are  open  to  the  public ;  no  fee  or  pass  is  de- 
manded ;  and  the  richest  and  the  poorest,  the  citizen  and 
the  stranger,  can  enjoy  the  liberality  of  a  powerftd  nation. 

There  are  various  other  museums  and  collections  of 
curiosities  in  London,  in  examining  which  a  stranger 
may  occupy  weeks  and  months,  and  at  the  end  find  his 
task  incomplete.  Public  property  and  private  fortunes 
have  been  expended  in  this  way,  and  no  one  can  fail  to 
express  his  admiration  of  the  scope  and  grandeur  of 
this  form  of  public  instruction  and  recreation. 

Turning  back  ft'om  the  Museum,  we  enter  St.  Paul's 
Church,  the  largest  and  most  magnificent  in  the  king- 
dom. This  noble  structure  was  designed  by  Sir  Chiis- 
topher  Wren,  and  was  commenced  by  him  in  1673,  and 
completed  in  1715.  It  is  built  in  the  form  of  a  Greek 
cross,  and  is,  exteriorly  and  interiorly,  worthy  of  the 
great  city  of  which  it  marks  the  center.  ^larble  stat- 
ues adorn  the  interior,  and  over  the  whole*  rises  a  spa- 
cious dome,  surmounted  by  a  ball  and  cross,  to  which 
the  ^isitor  ascends  by  a  vrinding  staii'case.  From  the 
Golden  Gallery,  which  is  just  below  the  ball,  a  fine 
view  of  London  is  obtained.  I  well  remember  the 
morning  on  which  I  gazed  from  that  high  elevation 
upon  the  sea  of  dwellings  spread  out  below.  The 
grandest  conception  of  the  cit}*  is  obtained  from  this 
point.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  —  north,  south, 
east,  and  west,  —  the  country  is  covered  ^vith  chiu'ches, 
houses,  and  manufactories  —  one  wide  wilderness,  losing 
10  G 


74  EUROPA. 

itself  in  the  misty  distance.  As  you  stand  on  the  dome 
of  St.  Peter's,  you  see  Home  gathered  close  around 
you  —  a  comfortable  city,  indeed,  but  not  like  this. 
Around  you  are  the  towers  and  tombs,  the  castles  and 
palaces,  while  beyond,  for  miles,  in  the  clear  atmosphere, 
stretches  the  Roman  Campagna,  across  which  no  rail 
car  hurries,  and  on  which  hardly  an  object  of  interest 
or  a  sign  of  life  can  be  seen.  But  from  the  dome  of 
St.  Paul's  scarcely  a  green  spot  or  an  open  space  can 
be  discovered.  Even  the  streets  look  like  little  ave- 
nues, and  nought  but  the  red  house  tops,  the  gilded 
spires,  and  the  smoking  chimneys  arise  to  the  sight. 

In  the  crypt  under  the  church  repose  some  of  Eng- 
land's most  illustrious  men.  Breath  the  center  of  the 
dome  is  the  tomb  of  Nelson,  his  last  battle  fought,  and 
his  body  crumbling  back  to  dust.  Near  by  is  all  that 
remains  of  the  mortal  Lord  Collingwood.  At  a  dis- 
tance are  the  resting-places  of  Christopher  "Wren,  Ben- 
jamin West,  and  other  men  of  genius.  Here  they  sleep, 
awaiting  the  sound  of  the  last  trumpet,  which  shall  call 
them  again  to  life. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  give  a  description  of  the  Cathe- 
dral. Its  dimensions  will  be  seen  by  the  bare  an- 
nouncement that  it  is  five  hundred  and  ten  feet  long 
within  the  walls ;  from  the  floor  to  the  center  of  the 
dome,  three  hundred  and  forty  feet ;  the  circumference 
of  the  dome  within  is  three  hundred  feet  —  well  pro- 
portioned, well  built,  and  forming  one  of  the  objects  of 
interest  which  the  stranger  is  most  anxious  to  behold. 
Daily  devotions  are  held  here,  in  which  the  English 
service  is  read,  sung,  chanted,  or  performed  in  the  most 
dull  and  stupid  manner  imaginable.  The  monotony  of 
the  service ;  the  indolent,  careless,  irreligious,  and  often 
gross  and  sensual  look  of  those  who  engage  in  it ;  the 


GENERAL   VIEW   OF  LONDON.  75 

inattention  of  the  people;  and  the  evident  want  of 
devotion  in  priest  and  worshippers,  —  resemble  any 
thing  but  the  worship  of  God. 

The  churches  of  London  are  generally  heavy,  mas- 
sive, uncomely  structures,  but  will  bear  comparison 
with  the  churches  of  Boston  and  New  York.  Some 
few  of  them  are  associated  in  our  minds  with  great 
events  in  history,  and  some  few  a  stranger  will  visit 
for  their  architectural  beauty  or  antique  appearance. 
Beneath  them  all,  or  around  them,  the  dead  repose; 
and  the  walls  are  often  disfigured  by  inscriptions  to  the 
memory  of  men  long  since  departed  and  forgotten.  In 
St.  Mary  Woolnorth  lies  the  body  of  John  Newton, 
a  former  rector.  A  tablet,  bearing  an  inscription  writ- 
ten by  himself,  reads  as  follows:  "John  Newton  — 
once  an  infidel  and  libertine,  a  servant  of  slaves  in 
AMca  —  was,  by  the  rich  mercy  of  our  Lord  and  Sa- 
vior Jesus  Christ,  preserved,  restored,  pardoned,  and  ap- 
pointed to  preach  the  faith  he  once  labored  to  destroy." 

St.  Mary-le-Bow,  noted  for  its  connection  with  events 
in  past  times,  has  one  of  the  most  beautiful  steeples 
in  London,  and  is  a  fine  old  edifice  of  Wren's  design- 
ing. In  All-Hallows  Church  Milton  was  christened, 
and  in  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate,  he  was  buried.  In  this 
latter  church  —  which  is  memorable  for  the  marriage 
of  Cromwell  with  Elizabeth  Bouchier,  who  was,  as 
Oliver  says,  "  unto  me  a  good  helpmeet "  —  repose  the 
ashes  of  Fox,  the  author  of  the  Book  of  Martyrs,  a  work 
which  has  done  much  to  open  the  eyes  of  Protestants 
to  the  enormities  of  the  church  of  Rome.  In  St.  Sep- 
ulcher's  is  an  old  bell  which  was  formerly  tolled  at  the 
time  of  the  execution  of  criminals ;  and  we  are  referred 
to  a  custom  which  some  half  century  ago  prevailed.  The 
bell-ringer  was  accustomed  to  go  at  night  to  Newgate 


76  EUEOPA. 

prison,  and,  standing  under  the  walls,  cry  aloud,  so  as 
to  be  heard  by  the  condemned  within,  — 

"  All  you  that  in  the  condemned  hold  do  lie, 
Prepare  you  ;  for  to-morrow  you  shall  die. 
Watch,  all,  and  pray  ;  the  hour  is  drawing  near, 
That  you  before  the  Almighty  must  appear. 
Examine  well  yourselves  ;  in  time  repent, 
That  you  may  not  to  eternal  flames  be  sent ; 
And  when  St.  Sepulcher's  bell  to-morrow  tolls, 
The  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  souls. 
Past  twelve  o'clock  !  " 

In  Christ's  Church  sleeps  Richard  Baxter,  Cromwell's 
chaplain,  and  the  author  of  Saint's  Rest.  In  Temple 
Church  is  Oliver  Goldsmith.  Beneath  St.  Clement 
Danes  lies  Bishop  Berkeley.  Walter  Raleigh's  head- 
less trunk  is  deposited  in  St.  Margaret's,  and  in  the 
various  temples  dedicated  to  God  may  be  seen  words 
in  praise  of  human  frailty.  In  the  buried  vaults  of 
St.  Martin-in-the-Fields  lie  a  medley  of  good  and  evil, 
white  spnits  and  gray,  among  whom  are  the  remains  of 
Jack  Sheppard,  who  was  hanged  in  1723,  whose  history 
is  familiar  to  every  schoolboy,  and  whose  deeds  are 
now  the  nursery  tales  of  England  ;  also  Nell  Gwynne, 
the  story  of  whose  misfortunes  and  crimes  has  been 
rehearsed  in  many  a  circle,  and  whose  sad  fate  has 
drawn  out  for  her  many  a  tear  of  pity.  The  dissent- 
ing meeting-houses  of  London  are  generally  poorly 
constructed,  and  destitute  of  all  the  attractions  of  ar- 
chitecture and  art.  I  found  dissenters  more  numerous 
than  I  supposed.  There  are  nearly  one  hundred  and 
fifty  chapels  for  Independents,  who  embrace  several 
denominations,  and  about  seventy  for  Baptists  —  the 
latter  including  all  the  different  shades  and  complex- 
ions of  those  who  practice  immersion.     The  churches 


GENERAL   VIEW  OF  LONDON.  77 

of  our  own  faith  are  peculiarly  plain.  I  visited  many 
of  them,  and  of  all  I  saw,  only  one  would  compare 
with  our  own  sanctuary,  for  neatness  and  convenience. 
Badly  formed  and  rudely  constructed,  many  of  them 
have  a  repulsive  appearance.  The  people,  who  live 
in  ceiled  houses,  and  many  of  whom  are  wealthy,  in- 
stead of  feeling  mortified  and  ashamed  of  their  places 
of  worship,  glory  in  their  plainness,  as  an  evidence  of 
their  humility,  when  they  have  more  reason  to  believe 
that  it  arises  from  pride  and  avarice. 

Leaving  the  churches,  to  some  of  which  we  shall 
return  in  a  future  chapter,  we  enter  a  steamer,  and  sail 
a  while  up  and  down  the  Thames.  I  have  noticed  a 
statement,  recently,  that  a  steamer  passes  under  Water- 
loo Bridge  every  minute ;  and  this  fact  will  enable  us 
to  see  the  immense  business  which  is  done  upon  that 
little  river.  I  had  heard  of  the  Thames  as  a  broad, 
beautiful  stream,  and  was  somewhat  disappointed  when 
I  first  beheld  it.  It  is  narrow,  being  not  more  than 
nine  hundred  feet  wide,  and  is  continually  discolored 
and  dirty,  the  paddles  of  the  steamers  ever  stirring  up 
its  depths.  But  narrow  and  turbid  as  it  is,  it  is  of 
great  importance  to  London,  and  a  source  of  national 
wealth  and  prosperity  which  could  hardly  be  dispensed 
with.  It  is  spanned  by  several  noble  bridges,  such  as  I 
have  seen  nowhere  else,  and  which  are  justly  admired 
by  all  travelers.  Over  these  bridges  throngs  are  con- 
tinually passing  backward  and  forward — foot  passen- 
gers and  carriage  passengers,  drays  and  coaches,  omni- 
buses and  donkey  carts,  crowding  the  passages,  and 
pouring  into,  and  out  of,  the  city  in  one  continual  flood, 
while  beneath, — 

'*  Through  many  an  arch,  the  wealthy  river  rolls." 

G* 


78  EUROPA. 

A  great  atti-action  of  the  Thames  is  the  tunnel,  which, 
landing  from  the  steamer,  we  enter.  A  man  of  whom 
we  purchased  our  tickets  of  admission,  and  to  whom 
we  only  said  the  simple  words,  "  Three  tickets,  sir," 
recognized  us  as  Americans  at  once,  and  asked,  "  Will 
you  not  have  a  view  of  the  tunnel,  to  take  home  to 
your  friends  in  America  1  "  Before  a  word  could  be 
said  in  reply,  I  asked,  m  reference  to  my  companions, 
who  were  a  few  steps  in  advance,  "Which  of  them  is 
an  American,  sir?"  "You  are  one,"  was  his  imme- 
diate answer. 

The  tunnel  is  gained  by  descending  a  long,  broad 
staircase,  ha^ving  some  sixty  or  seventy  steps.  It  is  in 
the  form  of  a  double  arch;  is  thirteen  hundred  feet 
long ;  each  arch  is  about  thirteen  feet  Tride  and  fifteen 
high,  lighted  with  gas,  and  the  whole  cost  six  hundred 
and  fourteen  thousand  pounds.  It  is  a  noble  work,  but 
I  can  see  no  use  to  which  it  can  be  put.  It  is  much 
easier  to  cross  the  bridges,  in  the  clear  aii',  than  to  de- 
scend a  long  flight  of  steps,  and  cross  under  the  river, 
amid  gas  and  vapor,  with  the  continual  fear  that  the 
waters  will  break  in  from  the  river  which  rolls  above. 
I  experienced  the  Yankee  feeling  of  disappointment, 
from  the  conviction  that  this  stupendous  work  of  art 
cannot  be  turned  to  a  profitable  account,  but  that,  while 
it  may  di-aw  attention  and  elicit  admiration,  it  will  not 
be  of  any  great  public  utility,  but  remain  a  mere  artistic 
curiosity. 

Leaving  the  tunnel,  we  enter  again  the  crowded  thor- 
oughfares of  the  metropolis.  Clear  or  cloudy,  wet  or 
dry,  the  streets  are  full ;  one  long,  continuous,  and 
unending  tide  of  life  rolluig  on  —  now  streaming  in 
one  direction,  now  broken  and  chopped  as  the  waves, 
now  circled  and  turned  about  by  the  whu-lpool  wliich 


GENERAL   VIEW   OF  LONDON.  79 

arises  from  the  conjunction  of  several  streets,  lanes, 
and  alleys,  and  anon  gathering  again,  to  hurry  by  like 
torrents  to  the  briny  sea.  The  questions  arise  to  the 
lips  of  a  stranger,  "  How  is  this  immense  multitude  — 
these  millions  of  human  beings  —  fed  and  clothed'? 
Where  do  they  live  ?  What  do  they  do  1 "  The  former 
of  these  introduces  us  to  the  markets  of  London.  One 
morning,  ere  the  sun  was  seen,  I  found  my  way  to 
Smithfield.  I  had  pictured  to  myself  a  gloomy  old 
place,  all  surrounded  with  mementoes  of  the  bloody 
past.  I  almost  fancied  I  should  see  some  of  the  smoul- 
dering fire  in  which  John  Kogers  was  consumed,"  or  find 
a  brand  half  extinguished,  yet  remaining  to  tell  its 
tale  of  martyrdom.  But  when  I  arrived  at  the  place, 
where  I  half  expected  to  sit  down  in  silent  loneliness, 
and  muse  upon  the  story  of  wrongs  and  woes,  more 
to  my  pleasure  than  sui-prise,  I  found,  as  I  before  had 
been  informed,  that  the  old  place  of  execution  had  been 
converted  into  a  cattle  market.  Such  a  spectacle  I 
never  witnessed  before  —  one  sea  of  lining  creatures, 
huddled  together  to  the  number  of  six  thousand  beeves 
and  thirty  thousand  sheep  —  lowing,  bleating,  and  paw- 
ing the  ground !  In  a  few  hours,  this  whole  stock  is 
disposed  of,  and  the  next  morning  the  same  is  repeated, 
and  thousands  more  are  sold  out  to  the  butchers,  who 
soon  slaughter  them,  and  scatter  their  meat  through 
the  city  to  the  hungry  inhabitants.  As  I  returned  from 
Smithfield,  I  took  my  way  through  Cock  Lane,  and 
was  pointed  to  the  room  where  the  famous  Cock  Lane 
ghost  appeared  several  years  ago,  and  which  threw  Lon- 
don into  an  uproar,  and  laid  the  foundation  for  a  story 
which  has  cheated  the  wise  and  amazed  the  ignorant, 
and,  for  aught  I  know,  may  yet  be  believed  by  some 
who  suppose  witches  and  ghosts  to  be  veritable  things. 


80  EUROPA. 

The  next  morning,  I  strolled  through  Billmgsgate 
Fish  Market.  Here  I  came  in  contact  with  all  kinds 
of  creatures,  saw  all  sorts  of  sights,  and  heard  all  forms 
of  speech.  This  market  is  notorious  for  the  multitude 
of  vile  men  and  abandoned  women  who  attend  it. 
Fish  of  all  kinds  were  being  handed  from  vessels  in 
great  quantities,  carried  into  the  market,  and  again 
carried  out  by  the  costermongers,  who,  with  baskets  on 
their  heads,  on  horses  or  donkeys,  were  going  out  to 
sell  them  through  the  city.  It  was  amusing  and  sad- 
dening ta  see  the  depravity  of  the  w^retched  creatures 
who  thronged  around.  The  vile  expressions,  the  horrid 
blasphemy,  and  the  lewd,  licentious  jeers  give  an  idea 
of  the  awful  wretchedness  of  some  of  these  people; 
and  I  never  was  so  struck  before  with  the  perfect  pro- 
priety of  the  word  "  Billingsgate,"  as  applied  by  us  to 
low,  angry,  and  menacing  conversation  and  speeches. 
Whenever  I  hear  this  word  applied,  it  will  need  no 
other  adjective  to  express  to  my  mind  all  that  is  low 
and  degrading  in  human  speech. 

An  hour  before  breakfast,  on  the  next  morning,  was 
devoted  to  a  stroll  through  Covent  Garden  Market, 
devoted  to  the  sale  of  culinary  vegetables,  fruits,  and 
flowers.  It  stands  where  once  was  a  convent,  which 
was  demolished  to  give  place  to  a  more  useful  establish- 
ment. Scarcely  any  thing  could  be  finer  than  the  ap- 
pearance of  this  market  on  the  morning  in  question. 
In  the  market,  and  in  the  stalls  adjoining,  and  in  the 
streets,  were  hundreds  of  cords  of  vegetables  of  all 
kinds ;  heavy  ox  loads  piled  up  with  care,  while  con- 
stantly was  going  out  a  stream  of  men  and  women,  to 
peddle  all  this  through  the  streets  of  the  city.  We 
tried  to  make  some  estimate  of  the  number  of  cords  of 
vegetables;  but  the  number  to  which  we  arrived  was 


GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON.  81 

SO  high  that  I  will  not  name  it,  lest  it  be  supposed  that 
we  had  not  been  up  long  enough  to  see  distinctly  and 
judge  correctly.  The  fruits  and  flowers  also  made  a 
very  fine  display ;  the  former,  rich,  luscious,  and  tempt- 
ing ;  the  latter,  fresh,  blooming,  odorous,  and  beautiful. 
One  gentleman  stepped  up  to  a  rich  stand  of  fruit,  and 
asked  if  a  fine  "  lot  of  peaches  were  natural  or  arti- 
ficial," his  mind  being  in  doubt  on  the  point.  The 
seller,  supposing  him  to  be  bantering,  replied,  "Go 
away,  go  away,  sir  ;  you  are  naturals 

The  same  evening,  it  being  Saturday,  I  found  my 
way  into  Newgate  Meat  Market,  which  is  two  hundred 
feet  long,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide;  and  here 
another  display  met  my  eyes.  I  have  always  known 
that  Englishmen  are  fond  of  good  dinners,  and  many 
of  them  give  evidence  that  they  know  how  to  live ;  and 
when  I  went  into  this  market,  I  ceased  to  wonder.  The 
finest  beef  and  mutton  I  ever  saw*  were  here,  and  in 
quantities  enough  to  supply  a  nation.  I  was  told  that 
six  or  eight  hundred  sheep,  and  seventy-five  or  one 
hundred  oxen,  are  slaughtered  here  every  day. 

Leaving  this  market,  I  went  to  another,  of  a  much 
poorer  class.  It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  when  I 
arrived.  A  hundred  lights  were  flashing  out  upon  the 
night,  and  the  lower  classes  of  people  were  purchasing 
the  poorer  kinds  of  food  for  the  next  day.  There, 
women  with  a  few  pennies  were  endeavoring  to  secure 
a  good  trade ;  mothers,  with  a  babe  on  one  arm,  and  a 
basket  on  the  other ;  little  children,  sent  to  purchase 
the  cheapest  bone;  old  men,  hardly  able  to  stagger 
home  with  what  they  had  money  to  buy.  Here  came 
Poverty,  creeping  along*  by  Co  vent  Garden  and  New- 
gate, to  expend  her  few  pence  in  decaying  vegetables 
and  tainted  meat.  I  noticed  one  little  girl,  who  plain- 
11 


82  EUEOPA. 

lively  went  from  stall  to  stall,  with  a  single  penny  in 
her  hand,  to  expend  to  the  best  advantage.  I  followed 
her  along,  asked  her  a  few  questions,  and  when  she 
made  her  meager  purchase  for  her  invalid  mother,  a 
little  brother  and  herself,  I  could  not  resist  the  induce- 
ment to  add  a  mite  to  her  little  treasure,  that,  on  the 
Lord's  day,  the  mouth  of  the  widow  might  be  filled 
with  food;  for  which  I  was  more  than  repaid  by 
the  graceful  courtesy  and  meek  "  thank  you  "  of  the 
child,  on  whose  cheek  I  saw  a  smile  struggling  with  a 
tear. 

An  old  woman,  with  a  wrinkled  face  and  a  trembling 
step,  also  arrested  my  attention.  She  passed  up  and 
down  the  market,  to  see  how  best  her  money  could  be 
laid  out.  There  was  such  a  care-worn  look,  such  a  sad 
and  melancholy  countenance,  that  pity  at  once  led  me, 
unobserved,  to  follow  her.  She  filled  her  basket,  and 
was  moving  away,  when,  wishing  for  an  adventure,  I 
said  to  her,  in  as  kind  a  tone  as  possible,  "  Good  woman, 
shall  I  carry  your  basket  as  far  as  I  go  in  your  direc- 
tion 1 "  Seeing  that  my  ofier  was  a  well-meant  one,  she 
gave  it  me  with  many  thanks.  We  walked  along- 
together,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  had  all  her  history. 
She  was  a  widow.  Her  husband  died  wiien  her  little 
twin  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  Avere  two  years  old. 
Her  little  boy  grew  up,  and,  by  his  thoughtless  course, 
wrung  her  heart  with  anguish,  and  finally  left  the 
parental  roof,  and  entered  the  navy,  and  she  had  not 
seen  him  for  years.  "  And  O,"  said  she,  "  if  he  would 
return,  I  would  forgive  him  all,  and  love  him  as  I  did 
when  once  he  carried  the  basket  for  me,  as  you  do 
to-night.  When  you  spoke  to  me,  sir,  I  thought  I  heard 
his  voice,  and  had  found  my  son."  The  daughter  she 
told  me  was  dead,  having  w^orked  herself  to  death  to 


GENERAL   VIEW   OE  LONDON.  83 

support  her  mother.  Now  the  widow  lived  on  with 
but  one  hope  —  to  see  her  long-lost  child.  At  the  ter- 
mination of  the  street  we  parted,  and  as  I  placed  the 
basket  on  her  arm  and  received  her  blessing,  she  said, 
with  all  the  childishness  of  age,  "  If  you  ever  see 
Edgar,  you  will  tell  him  to  come  home ;  won't  you  1 " 

England  has  much  to  answer  for  —  her  people,  beg- 
gared to  support  a  royal  line  and  a  retinue  of  nobles, 
are  calling  for  reform.  They  read  the  wrong  in  the 
signs  of  wretchedness  and  want  of  thousands  who 
conceal  themselves  in  the  lanes  and  dark  avenues  of 
that  great  city,  but  who  come  out  to  beg,  steal,  or  buy, 
and  then  shrink  back  again,  as  if  afraid  of  light. 

One  night,  as  I  wandered  through  Holborn,  I  was 
delighted  with  the  appearance  of  a  store,  wjiich  set 
forth  in  a  prominent  position,  very  finely  illuminated. 
On  one  side,  in  flaming  gas  letters,  appeared,  "  God  save 
the  Queen,"  and  on  the  other,  "  God  bless  the  People ;  " 
while  in  the  middle  blazed  forth  a  crown  and  other 
bawbles  of  royalty.  It  was  a  gay  sight,  and  I  stood,  and, 
with  a  crowd  of  others,  gazed  on  a  while ;  and  as  I 
looked,  a  pale  and  haggard-looking  woman,  tall  and 
gaunt,  mingled  with  the  throng.  A  while  she  gazed 
with  the  rest,  but  at  length,  rising  to  her  full  height, 
and  looking  around  upon  the  ]3eople,  exclaimed,  ou 
rather  shrieked  out,  "  Admire  it,  admire  it ;  but  know 
that  it  was  wrung  out  of  poor,  old,  worn-out  frames, 
like  mine !  "  And  then  she  commenced  a  rude  speech 
upon  the  wrongs  of  the  working  class,  which  appealed 
to  all  hearts.  She  was  soon  hustled  away  by  a  police 
officer,  crying,  as  she  went,  "  Bum  on,  burn  on  ;  the 
wasted  lamp  is  almost  out." 

A  residence  of  a  few  weeks  in  Europe  makes  one 
painfully  familiar  with  scenes  of  wretchedness  and  sor- 


84  EUROPA, 

row.  Starving  families  are  represented  in  the  street  by 
squalid-looking  children,  haggard  men,  and  pale,  cadav- 
erous women.  If  you  leave  the  Strand,  Holborn,  or 
Oxford  Street,  and  step  into  the  by-ways  and  side- 
lanes,  you  change  at  once  from  the  rolling  carriages 
of  the  nobles,  and  the  rich  stores,  filled  with  splendid 
trappings,  to  the  filth  and  wretchedness  of  squalid 
poverty.  If  you  enter  the  dwellings  of  the  residents 
in  those  streets,  you  will  find  children  who  know  but 
little  about  a  respectable  meal,  or  a  comfortable  bed, 
and  such  degradation  as  will  make  you  weep  for  poor 
fallen  human  nature. 

Often,  when  tired  of  display,  and  satisfied  with  the 
richness  of  the  more  public  streets,  have  I  stopped  at 
the  door^of  some  rude  tenement,  and  entered  into  con- 
versation with  the  father  or  mother,  about  the  children 
who  were  playing  around,  or  who  shrunk  away  at  my 
presence.  They  would  confess,  without  a  blush,  that 
they  were  uneducated,  and  brought  up  in  crime  and 
sin.  To  the  question,  "  Do  you  go  to  church  1 "  the 
answer  would  be,  "  Where  should  a  poor  man  as  me 
get  clothes  to  wear  to  church  1  "  or,  "  How  can  a  poor 
woman  like  I  go  into  the  company  of  the  gentry  1  " 
And  thus  parents  and  children  alike  grow  up  without 
the  light  of  education  or  religion.  Christianity,  in  the 
old  world,  stalks  abroad  in  spacious  cathedrals,  or 
nestles  down  at  the  foot  of  kingly  thrones,  and  goes 
not  to  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  to  bless  and 
encourage  them.  Her  dignity  would  be  injured  by  a 
contact  with  the  poor,  despised,  and  ignoble,  and  she 
turns  from  them  with  coldness  to  take  the  hand  of 
princes.  This  may  be  the  religion  of  the  church  of 
England  and  of  Rome,  but  it  is  not  the  religion  of  the 
CHURCH  OF  God. 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  85 


VI. 

THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION. 

The  Crystal  Palace,  with  its  crowded  apartments, 
halls,  saloons,  and  thousands  of  visitors,  was  the  fortu- 
nate idea  of  Prince  Albert.  Ever  seeking  out  some 
plan  to  benefit  the  nation,  to  share  the  throne  of  which 
he  had  been  called  by  divine  Providence,  he  con- 
ceived the  purpose,  the  grandeur  of  which  has  been 
equaled  only  by  the  unparalleled  success  which  has 
crowned  it.  His  ready  mind  at  once  foresaw  the  im- 
mense advantage  which  such  an  exhibition  would  be 
to  England,  and  he  set  himself  to  the  work.  His 
plans  were  communicated  to  the  nobles  of  England 
and  France ;  consultations  were  held  with  artists  and 
mechanics,  and  an  early  attempt  was  determined  upon. 

"  Where  shall  it  be  heldl"  was  the  first  question ;  and 
to  this  but  one  answer  was  given.  The  city  of  London 
alone  could  furnish  facilities  for  such  a  gathering,  and 
it  was  determined  to  erect  a  building  in  Hyde  Park, 
between  Kensington  E.oad  and  Rotten  Row.  The  resi- 
dents in  the  immediate  vicinity  were  naturally  opposed 
to  this  selection;  and  as  they  could  not  prevent  the 
progress  of  the  enterprise,  or  prevail  upon  the  com- 
missioners to  select  a  new  location,  they  procured  an 
act  of  Parliament  that  the  building  should  be  removed 
as  soon  as  the  exhibition  closed. 

"  What  shall  the  building  be  1 "  was  next  asked.  This 
question   was    not   so   easily  answered.     For  weeks  a 

H 


86  ■  EUROPA. 

building  committee  of  engineers  perplexed  themselves 
with  this  question.  More  than  two  hundred  designs 
were  laid  before  them.  One  suggested  that  it  should  be 
of  wood,  another  of  brick,  and  a  third  of  stone  ;  but  to 
each  plan  seemed  to  rise  some  insurmountable  objection. 
The  public  presses  were  fiercely  engaged  in  the  strife, 
some  contending  for  one  plan,  and  some  for  another  ; 
and  others  still  asserting  that  the  wdiole  enterprise 
would  be  a  failure.  At  this  point,  a  plan  was  submitted 
to  the  committee  by  Mr.  Joseph  Paxton,  an  eminent 
horticulturist  of  Chats  worth.  A  year  or  two  before, 
E-obert  Schomburgk  found,  growing  on  the  banks  of  the 
River  Berbice,  a  lily,  which,  like  Byron's  pillar  "  with  a 
buried  base,"  had  no  name  in  the  science  of  botany. 
He  preserved  seeds  of  this  plant,  and  sent  them  to  Mr. 
Paxton,  who  planted  them,  and  gave  to  the  shoot  the 
name  of  "  Victoria  Regia."  The  lily  soon  grew  to  a 
gigantic  size,  and  the  wits  of  the  horticulturist  were 
set  at  work  to  provide  some  habitation  for  it ;  and  he 
erected  at  once  a  glass  house  of  such  form  and  size  as 
would  answer  the  purpose. 

While  thus  engaged,  it  occurred  to  him  that  this 
same  plan,  enlarged  and  improved,  might  answer  for  a 
building  suited  to  the  proposed  exhibition.  He  soon 
marked'  out  his  design,  and  submitted  it  at  once  to  the 
committee,  who  were  already  nearly  discouraged  at  the 
array  of  difficulties  which  presented  themselves.  They 
soon  saw  its  advantages,  and  adoxDted  it,  and  issued  pro- 
posals for  its  immediate  erection.  Soon,  in  Hyde  Park, 
the  busy  scene  began.  The  beautiful  resort  of  wealthy 
men  and  gay  ladies  became  a  great  workshop,  and,  in 
an  astonishingly  limited  period  of  time,  the  building 
was  erected. 

The  ground  plan  of  the  edifice  is  a  parallelogram, 


THE   INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  87 

one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty-one  feet  long,  and 
four  hundred  and  fifty-six  feet  wide.  A  transept  inter- 
sects it  at  right  angles  in  the  middle,  which  is  four 
hundred  and  eight  feet  long,  and  seventy-two  feet  wide. 
The  building  rises  in  three  series  of  elevations,  of  the 
respective  hights  of  sixty-four,  forty-four,  and  twenty- 
four  feet.  These  elevations  are  supported  by  iron  pil- 
lars, fixed  in  a  socket  formed  in  a  base  which  rests 
upon  a  concrete  foundation.  Iron  braces,  girders,  and 
cross-bars  render  the  whole  safe  and  convenient.  The 
columns  are  trellised  together,  and  braced  so  as  to  cause 
no  apprehension  of  danger  from  the  winds.  Of  these 
pillars,  there  are  three  thousand  three  hundred,  from 
fourteen  and  one  half  to  twenty  feet  in  hight.  There 
are  two  thousand  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  cast- 
iron  girders,  and  one  thousand  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
eight  cast-iron  beams  for  the  galleries.  The  roof  of 
the  transept  is  semicircular,  and  rises  to  a  hight  of  one 
hundred  and  eight  feet,  and  presents  to  one  at  a  dis- 
tance a  most  beautiful  view.  The  glass  is  set  much 
in  the  manner  of  our  best-constructed  greenhouses. 
The  plates  are  forty-nine  inches  long.  Over  the  whole, 
canvas  is  drawn,  to  modify  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and 
prevent  injury  from  hail  or  storms.  The  iron-work  is 
gayly  painted,  so  as  to  give  the  best  impression ;  and 
the  whole  structure  has  a  light,  airy,  and  yet  substantial 
appearance,  truly  pleasing.  It  was  constructed  m  one 
hundred  and  forty-five  working  days  after  the  plan  was 
submitted  to  the  building  committee,  and  cost  less  than 
would  a  cheap,  ordinary  building  of  wood.  And  yet 
this  grand  plan,  and  this  successful  design,  were  but  as 
the  work  of  a  moment.  Probably  fewer  hours  were 
spent  by  the  designer  than  are  usually  spent  in  plan- 
ning a  tolerable  barn.  We  will  allow  the  architect  to 
tell  his  own  story. 


88  EUROPA. 

"  It  was  not,"  says  Mr.  Paxton  himself,  at  a  meeting 
of  the  Derby  Institute,  "until  one  morning,  when  I 
was  present,  with  my  friend  Mr.  Ellis,  at  an  early  sit- 
ting in  the  House  of  Commons,  that  the  idea  of  send- 
ing in  a  design  occurred  to  me.  A  conversation  took 
place  between  us  with  reference  to  the  construction  of 
the  new  House  of  Commons,  in  the  course  of  which  I 
observed  that  I  was  afraid  they  would  also  commit  a 
blunder  in  the  building  for  the  industrial  exhibition. 
I  told  him  that  I  had  a  notion  in  my  head ;  and  that,  if 
he  would  accompany  me  to  the  Board  of  Trade,  I  would 
ascertain  whether  it  was  too  late  to  send  in  a  design. 
I  asked  the  executive  committee  whether  they  were  so 
far  committed  to  the  plans  as  to  be  precluded  from  re- 
ceiving another.  The  reply  was,  '  Certainly  not ;  the 
specifications  will  be  out  in  a  fortnight ;  but  there  is 
no  reason  why  a  clause  should  not  be  introduced,  allow- 
ing of  the  reception  of  another  design.'  I  said,  '  Well, 
if  you  will  introduce  such  a  clause,  I  will  go  home, 
and,  in  nine  days  hence,  I  will  bring  you  my  plans  all 
complete.'  No  doubt  the  executive  thought  me  a  con- 
ceited fellow,  and  that  what  I  had  said  was  nearer  akin 
to  romance  than  to  common  sense.  Well,  this  was  on 
Friday,  the  11th  of  June.  From  London  I  went  to 
the  Menai  Straits,  to  see  the  third  tube  of  the  Britan- 
nia Bridge  placed ;  and,  on  my  return  to  Derby,  I  had 
to  attend  to  some  business  at  the  Board  Room  —  dur- 
ing which  time,  however,  my  whole  mind  was  devoted 
to  this  project;  and,  whilst  the  business  proceeded,  I 
sketched  the  outline  of  my  design  on  a  large  sheet  of 
blotting-paper.  Well,  having  sketched  this  design,  I 
sat  up  all  night,  until  I  had  worked  it  out  to  my  own 
satisfaction ;  and,  by  the  aid  of  my  friend  Mr.  Barlow, 
on  the  15th,  I  was  enabled  to  complete  the  whole  of 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  89 

the  plans  by  the  Saturday  following,  on  which  day  I 
left  Rowley  for  London.  On  arriving  at  the  Derby 
station,  I  met  Mr.  Robert  Stephenson,  a  member  of  the 
building  committee,  w^ho  was  also  on  his  way  to  the 
metropolis.  Mr.  Stephenson  minutely  examined  the 
plans,  and  became  thoroughly  engrossed  with  them, 
until  at  length  he  exclaimed  that  the  design  was  just 
the  thing,  and  he  only  wished  it  had  been  submitted  to 
the  committee  in  time.  Mr.  Stei3henson,  however,  laid 
the  plans  before  the  committee,  and  at  first  the  idea 
was  rather  pooh-poohed ;  but  the  plans  gradually  grew 
in  favor,  and,  by  publishing  the  design  in  the  Illus- 
trated News,  and  showing  the  advantage  of  such  an 
erection  over  one  composed  of  fifteen  millions  of  bricks 
and  other  materials,  which  would  have  to  be  removed 
at  a  great  loss,  the  committee  did,  in  the  end,  reject  the 
abortion  of  their  own,  and  unanimously  recommended 
my  bantling." 

But  the  building  was  at  length  completed.  The 
products  of  industry  were  brought  from  every  clime, 
the  vast  edifice  was  filled  with  articles  rich  and  valu- 
able, and  forthwith,  from  every  part  of  the  civilized 
world,  men  journeyed  towards  London,  to  attend  this 
great  industrial  council,  and  strengthen  the  bonds  of 
human  brotherhood.  The  world  had  never  seen  such 
pilgrims  before.  It  had  gazed  upon  marshaled  armies, 
upon  the  old  Palestine  crusades,  upon  many  a  scene  of 
religious  or  military  exultation ;  but  for  the  first  time 
were  all  the  banners  of  the  earth  seen  waving  over  the 
temple  of  industry,  and  all  the  tribes  of  men  represent- 
ed in  one  congress  of  art,  beauty,  and  utility.  The 
Crystal  Palace  was  the  admiration  of  the  world ;  and 
the  world  felt  proud  to  own  and  occupy  it.  It  out- 
shone Buckingham  and  liolyrood,  dnd  is  to-day  an 
12  H* 


90  EUROPA. 

object  of  more  interest  to  Christendom  than  all  the 
royal  courts  of  throned  kings  and  titled  nobles.  Peace 
has  received  new  assistance  from  this  great  gathering  ; 
Art  has  rejoiced  in  this  convocation  of  her  sons;  and 
Eeligion,  too,  feels  that  she  has  gained  a  triumph  over 
the  discordant  elements  which  are  abroad  among  the 
convulsed  nations  of  the  earth.  Prose  and  Poetry  have 
eulogized  the  undertaking ;  and  England's  choicest  poet 
—  Martin  Farquhar  Tupper  —  has  made  it  the  occasion 
of  one  of  his  most  enthusiastic  lays :  — 

"  Hurrah  for  honest  Industry  !  hurrah  for  handy  Skill ! 

Hurrah  for  all  the  wondrous  works  achieved  by  Wit  and  Will  ! 

The  triumph  of  the  artisan  has  come  about  at  length, 

And  kings  and  princes  flock  to  praise  his  comeliness  and  strength. 

"  The  time  has  come,  the  blessed  time,  for  brethren  to  agree, 

And  rich  and  poor,  of  every  clime,  at  unity  to  be  ; 

When  Labor,  honored  openly,  and  not  alone  by  stealth. 

With  horny  hand  and  glowing  heart,  may  greet  his  brother  Wealth. 

"  Ay,  Wealth  and  Rank  are  Labor's  kin,  twin  brethren  all  his  own. 
For  every  high  estate  on  earth,  of  labor  it  hath  grown ; 
By  duty  and  by  prudence,  and  by  study's  midnight  oil. 
The  wealth  of  all  the  world  is  won  by  God-rewarded  toil. 

"  Then  hail,  thou  goodly  gathering,  thou  brotherhood  indeed ! 
Where  all  the  sons  of  men  can  meet  as  honest  labor's  seed ; 
The  tribes  of  turbaned  Asia,  and  Afric's  ebon  skin. 
And  Europe  and  America,  with  all  their  kith  and  kin. 

"  From  east  and  west,  and  north  and  south,  to  England's  happy  coast, 
By  tens  of  thousands,  lo,  they  come  !  the  great  industrial  host  — 
By  tens  of  thousands  welcomed  for  their  handicraft  and  worth. 
Behold,  they  greet  their  brethren  of  the  workshop  of  the  earth ! 

"  Right  gladly,  brother  workmen,  will  each  English  artisan 
Rejoice  to  make  you  welcome  all,  as  honest  man  to  man  ; 
And  teach,  if  aught  he  has  to  teach,  and  learn  the  much  to  learn, 
And  show  to  men,  in  every  land,  how  all  the  world  may  earn  ! 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  91 

"Whatever  earth,  man's  heritage,  of  every  sort  can  yield. 

From  mine  and  mountain,  sea  and  air,  from  forest  and  from  field  • 

Whatever  reason,  God's  great  gift,  can  add  or  take  away, 

To  bring  the  worth  of  all  the  world  beneath  the  human  sway ;  — 

"  Whatever  Science  hath  found  out,  and  Industry  hath  earned, 
And  Taste  hath  delicately  touched,  and  high-bred  Art  hath  learned  ; 
Whatever  God's  good  handicraft,  the  man  He  made,  hath  made,  — 
By  man,  God's  earnest  artisan,  the  best  shall  be  displayed. 

"O,  think  it  not  an  idle  show,  for  praise,  or  pride,  or  pelf; 
No  man  on  earth  who  gains  a  good  can  hide  it  for  himself; 
By  any  thought  that  any  thing  can  any  how  improve. 
We  help  along  the  cause  of  all,  and  give  the  world  a  move. 

"  It  is  a  great  and  glorious  end  to  bless  the  sons  of  man, 
And  meet  for  peace  and  doing  good,  in  kindness,  while  we  can  ; 
It  is  a  greater,  and  more  blest,  the  human  heart  to  raise 
Up  to  the  God  who  giveth  all,  with  gratitude  and  praise." 

The  exhibition  was  opened  on  the  1st  of  May  with 
great  splendor.  The  queen,  and  royal  family,  and  Eng- 
land's noblest  ones,  convened  as  they  never  had  con- 
vened before;  and  the  learned  and  the  great  became 
the  patrons  of  labor  and  science.  The  imposing  spec- 
tacle I  did  not  see.  Adverse  winds  had  detained  our 
ship,  and  on  that  bright  May  day,  when  the  nobles  of 
the  realm  rode  along  in  aristocratic  pride,  and  the 
poor  and  trampled  turned  out  by  squadrons  to  view  the 
pageant,  and  from  between  their  chattering  teeth,  for- 
getful of  their  misery,  shouted,  "  God  save  the  queen !  " 
we  were  obtaining  our  first  sight  of  land,  and  heaving 
up  and  down,  Mazeppa-like,  upon  the  great  deep. 

I  visited  the  Crystal  Palace  nine  days  after  it  was 
opened.  Seldom  have  I  seen  so  fine  a  spectacle  as  this 
edifice  presented  as  I  approached.  The  immense  size ; 
the  peculiar  materials,  form,  color,  and  adornments ;  the 
flags  of  all  nations  waving  over  it  in  peaceful  pride ; 


92  EUROPA. 

the  long,  living  stream  of  humanity  rolling  towards  its 
open  doors,  —  formed  one  of  the  most  attractive  objects 
upon  which  I  ever  gazed.  On  entering,  a  new  scene 
presented  itself  In  the  center  of  the  building,  an  im- 
mense crystal  fountain  was  casting  out  its  jets  of  water, 
and  pouring  them  into  a  basin  below,  around  which 
fresh  flowers  were  blooming  and  shedding  their  fra- 
grance. This  fountain  could  be  seen  from  the  farthest 
extremities  of  the  Palace,  and  was  directly  in  view  from 
every  x^art  of  the  nave  and  transept.  About  fifty  yards 
from  the  fountain,  in  the  transept,  on  either  side,  was  a 
fine  elm-tree,  of  the  largest  size,  fresh  and  green,  and 
lending  a  delightful  charm  to  the  whole  scene.  Up 
and  down  the  nave,  in  the  center,  were  fine  specimens 
of  statuary;  on  both  sides  were  the  contributions  of 
all  nations,  while  thousands  of  persons,  from  all  climes, 
were  moving  to  and  fro,  delighted  with  the  gorgeous 
spectacle.  Different  departments  were  assigned  to  dif- 
ferent nations  with  great  fairness,  and  each  contributor 
was  allowed  as  much  space  and  prominence  as  were 
necessary  to  display  his  goods  to  the  best  advantage. 
The  admirable  order  and  the  exquisite  taste  displayed 
in  the  arrangement  and  formation  of  the  various  de- 
partments were  most  conspicuous,  and  every  article 
seemed  to  be  in  just  such  a  place,  and  laid  in  just  such 
manner,  as  would  best  draw  to  it  the  attention  of  the 
visitor.  In  all  the  vast  arrangement,  there  was  no  con- 
fasion.  Each  man  seemed  to  know  his  place ;  and 
though,  in  that  building,  I  saw  fifty  thousand  persons 
at  one  time,  yet  in  no  instance  did  I  observe  the  least 
breach  of  propriety  and  decorum. 

It  would  be  useless  for  me  to  attempt  to  give  a  sketch 
of  any  but  the  most  prominent  articles,  and  even  the 
reference  to  those  must  be  brief  and  imperfect.     Near 


THE  INDUSTEIAL  EXHIBITION.  93 

the  fountain  in  the  center  is  the  Koh-i-Noir,  or  Mountain 
of  Light,  co»tributed  by  the  queen.  The  value  of  this 
trinket  is  estimated  at  two  million  pounds,  and  came 
into  the  possession  of  the  English  by  the  annexation 
of  Lahore  to  the  Indian  territories  of  that  kingdom. 
It  was  discovered  in  the  mines  of  Golconda,  about  three 
hundred  years  ago,  and  was  for  a  long  time  the  property 
of  the  Mogul  emperors.  It  has  changed  hands  several 
times,  and  been  the  cause  of  war  and  bloodshed,  until 
it  is  now  sent  by  a  Christian  queen  to  grace  the  con- 
gress of  art  and  industry.  It  weighed,  before  being 
cut,  eight  hundred  carats;  but  a  clumsy  operator  re- 
duced its  weight  to  two  hundred  and  seventy-nine 
carats ;  and  yet,  with  this  reduction,  it  is  the  largest 
diamond  in  the  world.  It  is  covered  by  a  strong  iron 
cage,  and  at  night  is  lowered  down  into  the  base  of  an 
iron  pedestal  on  which  it  lies.  A  writer  in  a  British 
journal  says,  "  A  good  general  idea  may  be  formed  of 
its  shape  and  size  by  conceiving  it  as  the  pointed  half 
of  a  small  hen's  egg."  Around  this  jewel  a  crowd  of 
persons  is  constantly  collected,  eager  to  obtain  a  view 
of  a  gem  of  such  great  value. 

The  British  contributions  are,  of  course,  the  most 
numerous,  and  occupy  very  prominent  positions.  Every 
inducement  has  been  given  to  the  English  artists  to  send 
the  products  of  their  skill  into  this  great  exhibition, 
and  they  have  nobly  responded  to  the  call.  Among 
their  works  were  several  fine  models  of  towns,  churches, 
and  public  buildings.  A  complete  model  of  Liverpool, 
showing  its  streets,  houses,  churches,  docks,  and  ship- 
ping, drew  much  attention.  It  was  on  a  large  scale, 
and  was  a  most  perfect  thing  in  its  way.  The  model 
of  the  great  sepulchral  pyramid,  which  is  proposed  to 
be  erected  in  Surrey,  is  here.     It  is  to  be  nine  hundred 


91  EUKOPA. 

feet  high,  and  to  contain  catacombs  capable  of  entomb- 
ing five  millions  of  bodies.  It  is  designed  to  be  an  imi- 
tation of  the  pyramidal  tombs  of  Egypt,  and  to  stand 
through  all  time  —  a  vast  monument  of  human  mortal- 
ity and  frailty,  speaking  alike  of  the  goodness  and  the 
depravity  of  man.  If  this  pyramid  shall  ever  be 
erected,  and  rise  to  its  contemplated  bight,  it  Tvill,  in 
time,  become  an  object  of  more  interest  to  the  nation 
than  TTestminster  Abbey.  Other  beautiftd  models  are 
brought  forward  to  attest  the  high  state  of  art,  which 
win  admiration  fix)m  all  beholders. 

Among  articles  interesting  to  the  ladies  may  be  men- 
tioned a  very  fine  quilt,  wrought  by  knitting-pins,  not 
a  needle  stitch  being  found  in  it.  In  the  middle  is  a 
fine  figure,  and  the  comers  are  filled  up  with  flowers. 
The  whole  design  is  exceedingly  beautiful,  and  worked 
by  the  wife  of  a  mechanic  without  guide  or  pattern, 
except  such  as  origiaat^i  in  her  own  mind.  The  wife 
of  a  clergyman  exhibited  a  scarf,  which  was  manufac- 
tured by  herself  from  silk  produced  by  silkworms  of 
her  own  raising,  and  which  she  procured  to  teach  her 
children  the  habits  of  these  wonderful  littie  insects. 
Thus  she  taught  her  children  habits  of  industry,  and 
gave  them  lessons  such  as  they  never  could  forget, 
and.  at  the  same  time,  wrought  a  most  beautiful  fabric, 
which,  amid  the  articles  in  that  great  assemblage,  the 
stranger  found  time  to  stop  and  admire.  A  journeyman 
tailor  presents  a  quilt  about  ten  feet  square,  made  up 
of  forty-five  hundred  pieces  of  cloth,  the  whole  of 
which  is  wrousrht  with  the  needle.  The  center  piece 
represents  Britannia  ruling  the  waves,  while  the  bor- 
ders and  comers  are  filled  up  with  fine  designs  and 
exquisite  workmanship.  It  has  engaged  the  leisure 
time  of  the  tailor  ten  years.     A  carpet,  valued  at  eight 


THE  EvDUSTBIAL  EXHIBITION.  95 

hundred  pounds,  and  manufactured  for  Victoria  by 
several  of  her  lady  subjects,  drew  much  attention  from 
those  interested  in  such  work.  Each  lady  had  the 
pattern,  and  a  square  of  two  feet,  for  which  she  paid 
one  pound.  Into  this  square  she  crowded  her  work, 
and  on  it  displayed  her  skill ;  and  when  the  whole  were 
finished,  they  were  framed  into  one  beautiful  fabric 
for  the  use  of  royalty.  About  three  hundred  persons 
were  employed  in  its  completion. 

Machinery  was  contributed  in  great  abundance,  from 
a  little  tiny  model  to  the  huge  locomotive  ready  to  start 
off  on  its  fiery  passage.  Amon^  other  articles,  descrip- 
tions of  which  you  have  read  long  ere  this,  are  the 
electric  clocks  of  Mr.  Shepherd ;  a  new  pump,  by 
which  the  water,  instead  of  being  raised  by  rod, 
cylinder,  and  piston,  is  brought  up  by  the  -  centrifugal 
force,"  and  flows  in  one  continuous  stream  —  it  is 
designed  for  draining  marshes,  and  similar  purposes, 
and  a  machine  ten  feet  in  diameter  will  pump  one 
hundred  and  forty  thousand  gallons  per  minute :  a  life- 
boat of  gutta  percha,  most  admirably  constructed  for 
its  purpose,  which  may  be  folded  up  into  a  compass 
of  twenty  feet  long,  and  two  or  three  feet  wide.  "When 
in  the  water,  it  will  hold  one  hundred  men.  with  provis- 
ion and  baggage.  There  are  also  marquees  for  all  the 
different  kinds  of  manufactures,  displayed  to  the  best 
possible  advantage. 

Of  carved  work  there  was  a  great  variety,  from 
a  wooden  bowl  to  a  splendid  pulpit ;  from  a  child's 
toy  to  a  colossal  statue.  Bronze,  glass,  and  brass 
work  was  found  in  great  abundance,  and  of  great 
value.  The  immense  quantities  of  rich  goods,  and  the 
great  value  of  the  ai-ticles.  can  hardly  be  estimated. 
One  firm  had  over  one  million  dollars"  worth  of  silver 


96  EUROPA. 

and  gold  electro  plate  work,  of  all  forms  and  patterns ; 
and  you  may  walk  along  for  hours  by  the  most  exten- 
sive and  valuable  assortments  of  goods  ever  collected 
on  earth,  uicreasing  your  admiration  at  every  step. 

But  the  chief  object  of  interest  in  the  English  de- 
partment, to  me,  and  I  think  to  every  other  Christian, 
was  the  exhibition  of  Bibles,  made  by  the  British  and 
Foreign  Bible  Society.  They  have  here  displayed  the 
sacred  volume  in  one  hundred  and  thirty  different 
languages,  into  which  they  have  translated  it  for  the 
use  of  the  darkened  nations  of  the  earth.  Day  after 
day,  I  wandered  to  this  section  of  the  building  to 
admire  this  evidence  of  the  missionary  spirit  of  English 
Christians.  There  was  no  day  on  which  I  visited  the 
Crystal  Palace,  when  I  did  not  leave  the  crowded  nave, 
the  departments  of  art  and  skill,  Turkish  tents  of  ease 
and  pleasure,  the  dazzling  display  of  gold  and  gems,  to 
find  in  a  somewhat  obscure  location  the  Bible  exhibi- 
tion, which  in  its  moral  grandeur  outshone  the  brilliant 
Koh-i-Noir,  and  surpassed  the  magnificence  of  the  Crys- 
tal Palace  itself.  There,  crowded  out,  and  concealed 
behmd  the  array  of  fashion,  art,  and  beauty,  it  stood, 
that  same  Bible  exhibition,  a  "  Mountain  of  Light," 
reflecting  its  beams  over  all  nations. 

The  French  department  was  well  filled,  with  more 
showy  but  less  substantial  articles  than  were  contrib- 
uted by  the  English.  The  Parisian  manufacturers  and 
salesmen  have  sent  over  the  gaudy  productions  of  their 
gay  land,  and  here  we  found  them  much  admired.  The 
French  people  claim  that  the  idea  of  the  great  exhibi- 
tion originated  with  them ;  and  it  is  true  that  a  fair 
of  an  inferior  character  was  held  in  Paris  nearly  a 
half  century  ago,  and  which  in  subsequent  years  was 
repeated.     But  the  true  idea  of  a  world's  exhibition,  a 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  97 

great,  general,  universal  assemblage  of  all  nations  in 
one  convention  of  genius  and  art,  has  now  for  the  first 
time  been  realized.  In  this  gathering,  all  the  nations 
of  Europe  are  well  represented.  Benighted  Spain  and 
unfortunate  Portugal  have  come  out  from  under  the 
sh^^dow  of  the  Inquisition,  to  produce  their  works  of 
skill.  Cold,  rocky,  mountainous  Switzerland,  the  home 
of  Tell,  has  claimed  her  place  in  the  congress  of 
nations.  Hated  Austria  has  sent  her  representatives,  to 
prove  that  she  can  produce  something  of  more  beauty 
and  utihty  than  prisons,  racks,  and  instruments  of 
torture  for  the  patriots  of  dismembered  Poland  and 
betrayed  Hungary.  Persia  has  come  to  prove  that  she 
shines  as  brightly  in  "  Eastern  gold  "  as  in  the  old  Ori- 
ental times,  when  her  monarchs,  now  departed,  sat  in 
state,  or  lived  in  voluptuous  pleasures.  Once-feared 
and  barbarous  Turkey  deputed  her  artisans  to  claim  a 
sisterhood  with  the  family  which  was  gathering  in  the 
World's  Palace,  and  they  were  present  with  their  rich 
and  georgeous  productions.  Classic  Greece  gave  evi- 
dence that  the  taste,  and  skill,  and  beauty  of  the  past 
had,  in  a  measure,  descended  to  the  present.  China  and 
America  shook  hands  with  each  other ;  Germany  and 
Egypt  compare  friendly  notes.  Papal  Pome  is  seen 
nodding  along  the  nave  to  Mohammedan  Jerusalem, 
and  the  descendants  of  Ishmael  are  walking  along 
with  the  sons  of  Benjamin. 

Time  would  not  suffice  even  to  enumerate  the  fine 
articles  which  all  the  different  nations  have  contributed. 
There  were  swords,  guns,  and  pistols,  to  kill  men  in  time 
of  war;  surgeon's  instruments,  to  perform  the  nicest 
operations  upon  the  human  system  ;  musical  instru- 
ments, from  a  little  Genevan  music  box  to  the  splendid 
organs,  four  or  five  of  which  were  sounding  all  the 
13  I 


98  EUEOPA. 

time  ;  a  Tuscan  table  of  mosaic  in  stone,  valued  at 
six  hundred  thousand  francs  ;  beautiful  porcelain  from 
Sevres  ;  a  dozen  cardinals  done  up  in  wax,  and  rigged 
in  all  the  gewgaw  drapery  of  the  corrupt  church ;  the 
twelve  apostles  carved  in  ivory ;  church  bells,  and 
painted  windows ;  fire  engines  and  steam  engirds  ; 
jiloughs  and  reapers ;  raw  materials  in  vast  quantities, 
and  manufactured  articles  of  all  kinds,  forming  an  exhi- 
bition such  as  has  never  been  seen  before,  and  which 
we  can  hardly  expect  to  see  again  for  the  next  quarter 
of  a  century. 

You  inquire,  doubtless,  for  the  American  department 
of  the  exhibition  ;  and  to  that  we  now  devote  some 
attention.  At  the  onset,  our  country  was  treated  with 
the  greatest  respect.  To  her  was  given  on  the  ground 
floor  an  area  of  fifty-one  thousand  two  hundred  and 
sixty-four  feet,  and  more  gallery  room  than  any  other 
nation,  England  alone  excepted.  The  number  of  arti- 
cles from  America  was  not  so  great  as  was  expected. 
The  American  minister,  and  the  friends  of  America  in 
the  old  world,  had  hoped  much,  and  had  secured  for 
the  States  more  room  than  they  could  occupy.  Conse- 
quently, there  was  an  empty  appearance  about  the 
American  section,  which  did  not  contrast  favorably  with 
the  crowded  condition  of  sections  occupied  by  European 
nations.  The  American  articles  were  not  as  showy 
and  attractive  to  the  mass  of  the  people  as  some  con- 
tributed by  other  countries,  and  did  not  draw  so  many 
admirers.  Hence  it  was  often  said  to  people  who  were 
crowding  into  other  nations,  "  Go  to  the  American 
department,  and  you  will  have  room  enough  !  "  Besides 
this,  the  articles  sent  from  this  country  were,  in  many 
cases,  without  their  contributors  ;  and  I  thought  there 
was  much  less  taste  in  the  arrangement,  and  less  art  in 


THE   INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  99 

showing  the  goods  to  the  best  advantage,  than  was 
exhibited  by  others.  Nor  is  it  any  disparagement  to 
the  United  States  to  say  that  it  cannot  vie  with  Eng- 
land and  France  in  mere  matters  of  taste  and  beauty. 
Our  country  is  young ;  the  articles  and  fabrics  we  man- 
ufacture are  for  utility ;  and  we  make  no  pretensions  to 
those  little  and  comparatively  unimportant  attainments 
which,  exhibited  in  a  Crystal  Palace,  of  course  draw 
more  attention  than  agricultural  implements  and  pieces 
of  machinery. 

A  few  articles  in  the  American  department  may  be 
mentioned  not  only  with  commendation,  but  with  a 
feeling  of  national  satisfaction.  From  Philadelphia 
was  contributed  a  very  lEinely-finished  set  of  harness, 
which  equaled,  if  it  did  not  surpass,  any  thing  of  the 
kind  in  the  exhibition.  It  was  said  —  with  how  much 
truth  I  know  not  —  to  have  cost  about  three  thousand 
dollars,  and  was  admired  by  all  who  knew  any  thing 
about  such  articles.  Several  coaches,  and  light,  grace- 
ful sleighs  drew  much  attention,  and  formed  a  fine  con- 
trast with  some  of  the  heavy,  lumberous  vehicles  from 
other  nations.  A  fire  engine  was  also  found  in  our  de- 
partment—  a  charming  little  thing,  which  would  throw 
seven  streams  of  water  upon  a  fire  at  once,  at  an  aver- 
age hight  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  each.  The 
finish  of  the  "  tub  "  was  exquisite,  and  drew  consider- 
able observation.  A  steam  engine,  on  a  new  principle, 
in  which  the  motive  power  is  applied  directly  to  the 
driving-wheel,  without  the  intervention  of  cylinders, 
steam  chests,  or  condensers.  Several  other  machines 
are  on  exhibition  in  the  American  department,  of 
which  we  see  no  reason  for  our  country  to  be  ashamed. 

The  display  of  daguerreotypes  from  America  was 
very  far   before    that    of  any  other  nation ;    and   the 


100  EUROPA. 

triumph  of  this  art  in  our  new  world  was  often  men- 
tioned. The  countenances  of  our  distinguished  men 
were  mirrored  out  with  great  correctness  and  success, 
and  not  the  least  pleasant  hour  spent  in  the  Crystal 
Palace  was  that  devoted  to  a  glance  at  the  familiar 
faces  of  the  orators,  statesmen,  and  clergymen  of  our 
republic. 

In  the  foreground  of  the  picture  presented  by  our 
department  was  Powers's  "  Greek  Slave,"  the  most  fin- 
ished piece  of  sculpture  in  the  Fair.  With  this  "  tri- 
umph of  art "  you  are  familiar,  as  it  has  been  exhibited 
in  this  country,  and  received  the  favorable  notice  of  the 
most  distinguished  artists  and  men  of  taste  among  us. 
This  is  a  copy  of  the  original  statue,  was  taken  by 
Powers  for  an  Englishman,  and  by  him  placed  in  the 
American  section,  as  a  delicate  compliment  to  the  artist 
and  the  land  of  his  birth. 

Directly  in  the  rear  of  the  Greek  Slave  is  a  large 
number  of  Indian  traps,  presided  over  by  a  full-grown 
chief  and  his  squaw,  and  near  by  is  Colton's  model  of 
the  Falls  of  Niagara.  The  latter  is  said  to  be  very 
correct,  yet  can  but  fail  to  give  any  adequate  idea  of 
the  stupendous  work  of  God.  The  foam,  the  roar,  the 
mist,  the  thunder,  and  the  tremble  of  the  earth,  cannot 
be  represented  by  a  dead  model. 

There  were  also  some  rather  amusing  articles  on  ex- 
hibition. A  pair  of  oars,  mounted  in  silver,  and  in- 
closed in  a  black  walnut  case,  and  labeled,  "  A  present 
to  the  Prince  of  "Wales,"  was  the  contribution  of  a  Mr. 
Page,  of  New  York.  The  heads  of  some  of  our  distin- 
guished men  in  soap  gave  rise  to  a  pleasant  little  inci- 
dent, which  is  said  to  have  occurred  on  the  first  visit  of 
the  queen,  who,  hardly  believing  the  images  were  soap, 
was  about  to  try  them  with  a  bodkin,  but  was  prevented 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  101 

hy  the  proprietor,  who  exclaimed,  as  if  in  evident  hor- 
ror, "  No,  your  majesty ;  this  is  Washington ;  "  to  which 
Prince  Albert  replied,  "  O,  it  is  Royalty  picking  at 
Liberty."  I  also  saw  one  day  a  measure  of  parched 
corn,  for  what  sent  over  to  London  I  do   not   know. 

At  the  time  I  was  in  London,  the  English  people 
were  open  in  their  abuse  of  America.  Scarcely  a  paper 
could  be  taken  up,  from  the  Times  to  Punch,  without 
the  eye  falling  upon  some  slur  at  the  meager  condition 
of  the  American  section  in  the  Crystal  Palace.  On  the 
platform  in  Exeter  Hall,  I  was  compelled  to  listen  to 
the  same  unjust  and  prejudiced  remarks;  and  once  or 
twice  they  came  out  in  sermons,  on  public  occasions. 
But,  before  the  close  of  the  exhibition.  Brother  Jona- 
than compelled  John  Bull  to  draw  in  his  horns,  and 
swallow  his  own  words.  Somebody  says  of  Brother 
Jonathan,  "  The  waist  of  his  coat  may  be  ridiculously 
short ;  the  tails  of  it  ridiculously  long ;  his  shirt  collar 
may  absorb  the  produce  of  a  whole  field  of  flax ;  his 
pantaloons  may  not  come  below  the  tops  of  his  boots ; 
and  his  straps  may  have  the  air  of  preventer-braces,  to 
keep  the  continuations  from  going  over  his  head;  he 
may  be,  in  short,  the  most  unpresentable  man  you  can 
conceive  of,  and  '  most  mockable  at  court ; '  but  beneath 
the  uncouthness  of  his  dress,  and  the  frequent  hizarrerie 
of  his  manner,  there  is  such  a  man,  and  such  a  soul,  as 
only  Yankeedom  and  the  nineteenth  century  can  pro- 
duce or  educate." 

And  so  the  boasters  of  the  British  press  have  found 
it,  and  in  many  a  well-contested  trial  young  America 
has  secured  an  advantage.  At  a  fair  trial,  M'Cormick's 
Virginia  Reaper,  which  had  been  derided  and  made  the 
butt  of  wit,  secured  an  advantage  over  all  other  similar 

I* 


102  EUROPA. 

instruments ;  and  in  one  hour  M'Cormick's  fortune  waft 
made.  The  English  have  acknowledged  the  superior- 
ity of  his  machine  over  theirs ;  and  he  has  taken 
the  palm  under  circumstances  not  most  favorable  to 
himself. 

We  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  surprise  and 
pleasure  which  this  victory  over  the  prejudices  of  our 
transatlantic  friends  gave  us,  ere  one  of  the  journals  of 
London  which  had  been  most  abusive  made  the  follow- 
ing "concession,  in  reference  to  some  carpets  woven  af 
Clinton  by  Mr.  Bigelow :  "  The  American  department 
has  again  received  an  important  accession  of  strength, 
in  the  shape  of  some  specimens  of  Brussels  carpets, 
woven  upon  power  looms.  Although  various  attempts 
have  been  made  to  adapt  the  power  looms  to  carpet 
weaving  in  England,  there  is  not,  we  believe,  at  this 
moment,  any  machinery  perfected  for  that  object.  Our 
American  brethren  have  therefore  gained  another  step 
ahead  of  us,  and  have  won  another  laurel  on  this  well- 
contested  field  of  the  industrial  arts." 

We  were  enjoying  this  when  the  American  clipper, 
under  the  command  of  Mr.  Stevens,  arrived  on  English 
waters.  Taunting  challenges  were  thrown  out,  which 
were  accepted,  and  the  decided  superiority  of  the  Amer- 
ican over  the  English  clippers  shown  at  the  first  trial. 

The  next  news  that  came  informed  us  that  a  ma- 
chine for  the  manufacture  of  bobbins,  by  which  much 
labor  and  expense  were  saved,  was  being  exhibited  by 
a  Scotchman,  and  receiving  universal  commendation. 
The  machine  was  examined,  and  found  to  be  a  com- 
plete plagiarism,  it  having  been  the  invention  of  a 
gentleman  of  Lowell.  This  new  feather  Brother  Jon- 
athan put  in  his  cap  with  much  pleasure ;    and  the 


THE    INDUSTRIAL   EXHIBITION.  103 

admiration  which  had  been  bestowed  upon  the  supposed 
contribution  of  Scotland  ceased  quite  suddenly. 

But  a  new  triumph  awaited  Yankeeland.  A  genius 
with  "  a  coat  having  a  short  waist  and  long  tails  "  ap- 
peared in  London,  with  a  few  simple,  odd-looking  wires, 
and  inquired  of  the  policeman  on  the  corner  if  he  knew 
who  had  any  locks  to  be  picked.  He  was  directed  to 
the  famous  Chubbs  lock,  which  in  a  short  time  gave 
way  before  his  ingenuity.  He  next  tried  the  never- 
picked  lock  of  Bramah,  and  soon  that  too  yielded  to 
his  skill ;  and  the  Yankee  marched  off  with  the  two 
hundred  pounds  in  his  pocket,  and  England  was  left 
without  a  single  safe  lock  to  protect  her  treasures. 
Hobbs's  own  Parantoptic  Lock  was  laid  before  the  most 
skillful  locksmiths  in  England,  and  after  having  tried  to 
pick  it,  in  vain,  they  have  abandoned  the  attempt.  And 
now,  while  John  Bull  was  wondering  what  these  Yan- 
kees would  grow  to,  one  of  them  came  forward,  and,  to 
the  complete  astonishment  of  the  nation,  wished  to  hire 
the  Crystal  Palace  itself,  for  a  musical  concert,  and 
offered  ten  thousand  dollars  for  the  use  of  it  one  single 
day ;  but  as  some  one  keenly  remarks,  "  John  Bull  had 
seen  enough  of  the  Yankees,  with  their  patent  locks, 
reaping  machines,  and  yachts,  without  desiring  to  be 
danced  out  of  his  own  palace  to  the  tune  of  Yankee 
Doodle." 

Times  have  changed,  and  the  papers  which,  a  while 
ago,  were  heaping  abuse,  are  now  talking  most  fawn- 
ingly,  and  with  a  very  patronizing  air.  Punch  and  the 
Times  have  as  much  as  they  can  do  to  compliment 
America.  A  while  ago,  there  appeared  a  little  song  in 
Punch,  which  common  consent  ascribed  to  Thackeray, 
the  author  of  Pendennis.  It  is  so  felicitous  that  I  will 
introduce  it,  though  you  have  read  it  before. 


104  EUROPA. 

"  Yankee  Doodle  sent  to  town 

His  goods  for  exhibition  ; 
Every  body  ran  him  down. 

And  laughed  at  his  position  ; 
They  thought  him  all  the  world  behind, 

A  goney,  muff,  or  noodle. 
'  Laugh  on  good  people  —  never  mind,' 

Says  quiet  Yankee  Doodle. 

"  Yankee  Doodle  had  a  craft, 

A  rather  tidy  clipper  ; 
And  he  challenged,  while  they  laughed. 

The  Britishers  to  whip  her. 
The  whole  yacht  squadron  she  outsped. 

And  that  on  their  own  water ; 
Of  all  the  lot  she  went  ahead, 

And  they  came  nowhere  arter. 

"  O'er  Panama  there  was  a  scheme 

Long  talked  of,  to  pursue  a 
Short  route  —  which  many  thought  a  dream  ■ 

By  Lake  Nicaragua. 
John  Bull  discussed  the  plan  on  foot 

With  slow  irresolution, 
While  Yankee  Doodle  went  and  put 

It  into  execution. 

"  A  steamer  of  the  Colhns  line, 

A  Yankee  Doodle's  notion, 
Has  also  quickest  cut  the  brine 

Across  th'  Atlantic  Ocean. 
And  British  agents,  noways  slow 

Her  merits  to  discover, 
Have  been  and  bought  her  —  just  to  tow 

The  Cunard  packets  over. 

*'  Your  goldsmiths  of  their  skill  may  crack, 
But  that  again  don't  mention  ; 
1  guess  that  Colt's  revolvers  whack 
Their  very  first  invention. 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  105 

By  Yankee  Doodle,  too,  you're  beat 

Downright,  in  agriculture, 
With  his  machine  for  reaping  wheat, 

Chawed  up  as  by  a  vulture. 

"  You  also  fancied,  in  your  pride, 

Which  truly  is  tarnation, 
Them  British  locks  of  yourn  defied 

The  rogues  of  all  creation ; 
But  Chubbs'  and  Bramah's  Hobbs  has  picked, 

And  you  must  now  be  viewed  all  ' 

As  having  been  completely  licked 

By  glorious  Yankee  Doodle." 

But  the  exhibition  has  closed,  and  the  Crystal  Palace 
is  being  dismantled,  and  the  rich  store  of  goods  scat- 
tered among  the  nations.  On  the  11th  of  October, 
the  imposing  services  were  held,  and  the  congregated 
thousands  separated,  to  meet  no  more  on  earth.  The 
last  was  a  tumultuous  day.  Cheers  were  heard,  bells 
were  tolled,  and  one  of  the  noblest  assemblies  ever  con- 
vened was  broken  up.  The  nations  returned,  and  the 
streets  of  London  soon  began  to  wear  their  usual  aspect. 

That  the  exhibition,  viewed  in  almost  any  light,  has 
been  successful,  none  can  doubt.  The  number  of  per- 
sons in  attendance,  the  sums  of  money  received,  the 
moral  influence  upon  the  nations,  all  have  more  than 
equaled  the  most  sanguine  expectations.  The  num- 
bers who  visited  the  exhibition  during  the  time  it  was 
opened  were  as  follows :  — 

In  May, 734,672 

"  June, 1,130,116         ^ 

"  July, 1,314,176 

"  August, 1,023,435 

"  September, 1,155,240 

"  October, 841,107 

Total,          .         .         6,198,746 
14 


106  EUEOPA. 

The  largest  number  in  the  Palace,  at  any  one  time, 
was  ninety-two  thousand.  What  seems  very  singular 
is,  that  only  twenty-five  commitments  have  been  made 
by  the  police,  and  all  of  them  were  for  minor  offences. 
I  think  no  parallel  can  be  found,  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  in  which  so  large  a  number  of  persons  assembled 
with  so  little  confusion  and  crime. 

I  have  seen  going  the  rounds  a  strange  little  pre- 
diction ^of  the  poet  Chaucer,  made  years  ago,  and 
which  seems  to  have  been  singularly  verified  in  the 
Crystal  Palace.  In  his  "  House  of  Fame,"  he  is  spec- 
ulating as  to  the  cause  of  dreams,  informing  his  readers 
that  he  cannot  tell  whether 

"  Spirits  have  the  might 
To  make  folks  dread  o'night, 
Or  if  the  soul  of  proper  kind 
Be  so  perfect  as  men  find 
That  it  wote  what  is  to  come.^^ 

He  goes  on  to  say,  — 
"As  I  slept, 


I  dreamt  I  was 
Within  a  temple  made  of  glass, 
In  which  there  were  more  images 
Of  gold  standing  in  sundry  stages, 
In  more  rich  tabernacles, 
And  with  jewels  more  pinnacles, 
And  more  curious  portraitures^ 
And  quaint  manner  of  figures 
Of  gold  work,  than  I  saw  ever. 


"  Then  saw  I  stand  on  either  side 
Straight  down  to  the  doors  wide 
From  the  dais  many  a  pillar 
Of  metal  that  shone  out  full  clear. 


THE   INDUSTRIAL  EXHIBITION.  107 

Then  'gan  I  look  about  and  see 

That  there  came  entering  in  the  hall 

A  right  great  company  withal, 

And  that  of  sundry  regions 

Of  all  kinds  of  conditions 

That  dwell  in  earth  beneath  the  moon, 

Poor  and  rich. 


Such  a  great  congregation 
Of  folks  as  I  saw  roam  about, 
Some  within  and  some  without, 
Was  never  seen,  nor  shall  he  more  !  " 

The  old  j)oet  is  dead,  but  his  vision  has  been  realized 
in  the  great  exhibition  and  the  Crystal  Palace,  to  which 
we  now  bid  adieu,  with  a  single  remark  as  to  its  moral 
influence  upon  the  nations  of  the  earth.  This  influ- 
ence cannot  fail  to  be  very  beneficial.  Thousands  from 
all  nations  came  together  and  mingled  their  congratu- 
lations, and  the  friends  of  peace,  liberty,  and  religion 
seized  the  occasion  to  forward  the  high  purposes  of  the 
gospel.  It  is  not  probable  that  another  such  gathering 
will  be  held  for  many  years ;  but  when  it  is  held,  our 
own  country  will  be  the  place  ;  for  the  artists  of  Europe 
are  yet  to  take  lessons  in  republican  enterprise  and  in- 
dustry. We^re  confident  that,  in  the  next  exhibition, 
wherever  it  may  be  held,  the  American  department  will 
be  one  which  will  be  most  attractive  to  those  who  value 
real  utility.  That,  in  the  present  instance,  we  have 
done  justice  to  ourselves,  none  will  admit.  Much  finer 
displays  have  been  made  at  some  of  our  county  fairs, 
during  the  present  autumn,  than  was  made  by  our  de- 
partment in  the  exhibition  in  London  ;  and,  if  another 
opportunity  should  come,  our  artists  will  not  be  slow 
to  vindicate  the  wounded  honor  of  our  nation,  or  back- 
ward in  competing  for  the  highest  prizes. 


108  EUROPA. 

To  England,  as  a  nation,  the  exhibition  has  been  a 
source  of  great  pecuniary  benefit.  Millions  of  money 
have  been  carried  into  the  country  from  abroad,  and 
immense  purchases  of  goods  have  been  made  in  Lon- 
don, which  would  have  been  secured  elsewhere  but  for 
this  great  and  glorious  gathering;  and  when  another 
Crystal  Palace  is  erected  in  America,  may  we  reap  ad- 
vantages as  great  in  a  commercial  and  moral  view. 


THE  MINISTERS    OF  LONDON.  109 


VII, 


THE  MINISTERS   OF  LONDON. 


I  FEAR  I  was  led  to  attend  church  in  Europe  more 
by  curiosity  than  devotion.  The  desire  to  hear  distin- 
guished men,  to  be  impressed  by  their  eloquence,  did 
not  always  fit  me  for  communion  with  God.  I  confess 
my  object  was  more  to  see  and  hear  than  to  have  my 
heart  made  better ;  and  if  I  cannot  bring  back  to  you 
an  account  of  much  personal  improvement,  I  will  try 
to  give  some  idea  of  the  impression  made  upon  my 
mind  by  the  appearance  of  the  clergymen,  and  the  ser- 
vices of  their  churches.  I  left  home  determined  not  to 
preach  at  all,  but  was  obliged  to  abandon  this  wise 
course,  and,  on  several  occasions,  consented  to  deliver 
poor  sermons,  and  thus  lost  the  opportunity  of  hearing 
as  many  good  ones. 

The  service  in  English  churches  is  much  the  same  as 
in  ours.  The  dissenting  mmisters,  however,  as  well  as 
those  of  the  establishment,  have  an  assistant,  or  clerk, 
who  reads  the  hymns,  and  sometimes  performs  other 
parts  of  the  service.  The  clerk  is  generally  selected  in 
consequence  of  possessing  a  good  voice,  and  being  a 
pleasant  reader.  But  they  all  get  into  a  drawling  and 
unpleasant  habit,  reading  poetry  and  prose,  grave  and 
gay,  alike  with  a  "  holy  tone,"  or  a  "  sacred  twang," 
which  sounds  more  like  the  recitations  of  a  schoolboy 
than  the  voice  of  one  who  is  appointed  to  lead  the  de- 
votions of  the  people  of  God.     I  found  this  assistant 


110  ETBOPA. 

to  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  privileged  fault-finder  —  not 
knowing  how  to  preach  himself,  and  yet  continually 
trying  to  teach  his  minister. 

The  singing  in  the  dissenting  chapels  is  congrega- 
tional, a  deacon,  or  some  other  person,  standing  in 
front  of  the  pulpit,  lining  out  the  hymn,  and  giving 
the  pitch.  The  singing  was  like  Jeremiah's  figs  — 
some  of  it  very  ^ood,  and  some  very  bad.  This  exercise 
afternoons,  and  perhaps  at  other  times,  in  the  churches 
of  the  establishment,  is  often  done  by  children,  the 
boys  being  attired  alike,  and  the  little  girls  with  neat 
white  caps  and  aprons  —  presenting  to  the  congrega- 
tion below  a  pleasing  spectacle,  as  their  iufent  Toices 
are  raised  in  devotion  and  praise.  The  afternoon  ser- 
vice is  devoted  to  the  improvement  of  the  poor,  and 
those  who,  by  living  in  the  houses  of  wealthy  families, 
are  unable  to  attend  in  the  morning,  and  is  generally 
poorly  sustained. 

The  sexton  in  English  churches  is  often  a  woman, 
who  seats  the  people,  waits  upon  the  minister  into  the 
pulpit,  and  performs  sundry  other  services,  which  here 
devolve  on  the  other  sex.  I  was  much  amused,  on  one 
occ-asion,  by  a  woman  who  seized  me  by  the  arm,  and 
led  me  up  through  the  aisle,  and  gave  me  a  seat  be- 
neath the  pulpit.  The  more  I  held  back,  the  harder 
she  pulled  me  forward,  until  I  found  it  was  all  in  vain, 
and  I  snrrendered  at  discretion.  The  first  sermon  I 
heard  in  London  was  preached  by 

JOBIS    CrMMTSG,    D.   D., 

the  eloquent  pastor  of  the  church  in  Crown  Court, 
who  is  said  to  be  the  most  popular  minister  in  the 
dty.  He  is  c-onnected  with  the  established  church  of 
Scotland.     ELis  chapel  —  for  by  this  name  the  meeting- 


THE  MESTSTEBS  OF  LOXDOX.  Ill 

houses  of  all  dissenters  are  called,  however  spacious 
and  elegant  thev  may  be  —  is  beneath  the  shadow  of 
Dniry  Lane  Theater,  in  an  avenue  not  wide  enough  for 
a  carriage  passage.  The  chapel  itself  is  an  old  and 
unc-omely  a5air.  with  stained  o:las5  windows,  dark  and 
gloomy,  and  capable  of  seating  fifteen  hundred  persons. 
I  went  on  one  bright  and  beautiful  Sabbath  momins". 
and.  having  been  told  that  the  house  was  crowded  dur- 
ing service  time,  I  managed  to  be  there  nearly  an  hour 
before  the  sermon  commenced  The  vestibule  was  full ; 
the  aisles,  into  one  of  which  I  pressed  my  way,  were 
crowded ;  but  in  the  pews  not  a  single  peKon  could  be 
seen.  It  was  an  unusual  sight,  and.  on  inqmrinorr  I  ^as 
informed  that  no  strangers  were  seated  until  after  the 
first  prayer  was  offered  One  by  one  the  occupants  of 
the  pews  arrived  and  took  their  seats,  and,  long  ere  the 
hour  of  service:  the  house  was  crowded  from  the  pulpit 
to  the  porch,  and  I  had  the  satisjfection  of  standing  dur- 
ing the  whole  time.  As  I  looked  around.  I  saw  manv 
illustrious  and  titled  men,  among  whom  I  recognized 
the  countenance  of  Hon.  Abbott  Lawrence,  who  is  a 
regular  attendant  and  communicant  at  the  altar.  Soon 
a  slight  movement,  and  an  instant  c-essation  of  an  in- 
distinct murmur  which  had  been  running  through  the 
assembly,  announced  the  arrival  of  the  preacher.  He 
entered  by  a  door  in  the  rear  of  his  church,  arrayed 
in  robes,  and.  with  a  dignified  step,  ascended  the  pulpit 
stairs.  He  is  about  fifty  years  of  age,  tall  and  graceful 
in  his  bearing,  has  a  broad  and  ample  forehead,  dark 
brows  and  whiskers,  and  is  altogether  what  the  ladies 
would  call  a  -  very  handsome  man."  He  is  a  chaste 
and  elegant  speaker,  with  a  clear,  silvery  voice,  and 
precise,  even  to  what  appears  to  be  a  slight  affectation 
or  mannerism.    The  pi-eliminary  services  were  conducted 


112  EUROPA.  _ 

with  great  propriety,  the  singing  by  the  congregation, 
without  the  aid  of  an  organ,  and  the  discourse  was 
delivered  in  a  fluent,  extemporaneous  manner. 

The  text  was  the  words  of  God  to  Cain  —  "  Where 
is  thy  brother^"  The  preacher- commenced  by  remark- 
ing that  the  context  suggests  several  great  facts,  namely : 
that  death,  in  a  sudden  manner,  is  not  in  itself  an  evil, 
but  often  a  favor ;  that  the  first  death  was  of  a  good 
man.  Had  Cain  died  first,  all  men  would  have  looked 
upon  the  event  as  a  terrible  punishment,  whereas  now 
we  can  regard  it  in  another  light ;  that  the  first  was  a 
martyr's  death,  indicating  that  the  great  contest  be- 
tween the  seed  of  the  woman  and  of  the  serpent  had 
already  commenced ;  that  by  death  the  good  are  re- 
moved from  wo  here,  to  joy  beyond  the  grave. 

"  All  men,"  the  speaker  went  on  to  say,  "  are  of  one 
brotherhood,  on  whatever  shore,  in  whatever  clime. 
But  this  bond  of  brotherhood  is  not  always  recognized. 
Should  I  ask  one  the  question  of  the  text,  he  would 
rejoly,  '  What  is  that  to  me  1 '  He  would  manifest  a 
spirit  which,  if  carried  out,  would  break  down  all  our 
asylums  and  public  charities,  and  destroy  society  itself. 
Another  would  reply,  '  My  brother  is  no  care  of  mine ; 
for  his  sufierings  are  of  his  own  making,  or  of  his  par- 
ents.' What  of  that  1  Did  not  Christ  come  to  relieve 
us  of  sufferings  and  sorrows  which  we  made  for  our- 
selves t  Another  would  reply,  '  I  have  been  deceived 
so  many  times  by  my  brothers,  and  helping  them  has 
been  a  task  so  thankless,  that  I  will  not  relieve  him.' 
But  do  you  do  good  for  thanks  1  The  Pharisees  did, 
but  Christ  did  not.  True  charity  shuns  the  public 
gaze  —  would  rather  be  cheated  itself  than  allow  an 
object  of  pity  to  go  unblest,  or  without  our  contri- 
bution. 


THE   MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  113 

"  When  I  ask  the  text  with  reference  to  thy  brother's 
religion,  the  reply  is,  '  O,  that  is  his  business,  not  mine. 
If  he  is  sincere,  all  is  well  enough.'  Did  Paul  say  this 
when  he  looked  upon  the  idolaters  of  Athens  1  Did 
Christ  say  so  when  he  looked  upon  the  abominations 
of  Jerusalem  1  Did  he  say  so  when  he  went  bending 
to  the  cross  ? " 

Having  asked  the  question,  the  preacher  proceeded 
to  answer  it.  "  1.  Geographically,  thy  brother  is  in 
Africa,  in  China,  in  dark  lands,  in  lone  and  icy  moun- 
tains, every  ivhere.  2.  Religiously^  thy  brother  has  left 
the  temple  of  God,  and  is  bowing  in  the  mosk  of 
Omar,  in  the  cathedral  at  Rome,  in  the  temple  of  Jug- 
gernaut. He  has  given  himself  up  to  the  worship  of 
dumb  idols  ;  he  lives  without  God.  3.  Physically,  thy 
brother  is  in  some  vile  hovel,  or  on  a  sick  bed,  or  in 
a  prison.  He  is  in  want,  is  discouraged.  Thy  brother 
mans  our  ships,  builds  our  houses,  tempers  our  steel, 
provides  our  clothing,  and  fights  our  battles.  Go  forth, 
then,  man  with  a  heart,  and  claim  thy  brotherhood." 

This  discourse  was  applied  to  the  support  of  a  charity 
school,  connected  with  the  doctor's  church.  Speaking 
of  the  poor  children  composing  it,  he  remarked,  "  The 
only  difference  between  the  diamond  which  adorns  Vic- 
toria's crown  and  that  which  lies  embedded  in  the  earth 
consists  in  polish :  so  the  children  of  the  rich  and  poor 
differ  only  in  education."  In  illustration  of  the  mterest 
which  angels  on  high  take  in  the  education  of  children, 
he  said,  "  In  our  city  is  a  Crystal  Palace.  Thousands 
will  go  and  admire  it,  and  gaze  upon  the  productions 
of  every  clime  with  wonder.  But  holy  angels,  as  they 
swec^p  over  the  city  to-day,  will  stop  not  at  the  Crystal 
Palace,  but  will  tarry  where  children  are  gathered  from 
the  streets,  and  taught  to  love  the  Savior."  Again  he 
15  J* 


114  EUEOPA. 

remarked.  ••  On  one  occasion,  one  hundred  thousand 
men  were  employed  to  build  a  p^Tamidal  tomb  for  a 
dead  king :  we  are  decorating  the  living  temples  of  the 
lining  God."  The  address  was  wound  up  by  a  beauti- 
ful incident,  beautifully  enforced :  A  Grecian  artist  was 
once  employed  to  make  an  elegant  statue.  He  sent  for 
all  the  yii-gins  of  Greece,  and  took  the  most  perfect 
feature  of  each,  and  blended  all  into  one  fomi  of  love- 
liness ;  and  when  it  was  completed,  each  of  the  maidens 
of  that  classic  land  could  recognize  some  featui'e  of 
herself  in  the  work  of  the  artist:  so  the  Christian 
should  be  able  to  recognize  his  own  features  in  the 
reformation  of  society,  and  the  advancement  of  light 
and  truth. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  long  upon  this  discourse,  because 
Dr.  Gumming  is  said  to  be  the  most  eloquent  preacher 
in  London.  The  sermon  was  not  profoimd,  and.  in 
this  country,  would  be  called  brilliant  rather  than  elo- 
quent. There  was  nothing  startling  or  great ;  but  it 
consisted  of  a  series  of  brilKant  remarks  —  a  string  of 
jewels,  glistening  all  the  way  along  like  gems  in  the 
bracelet  of  beauty. 

VTe  pass  next  to  the  Free  Scotch  church,  in  Eegent 
Square,  where  preaches 

JAMES     HAMILTON,    D.    D. 

I  went  in  first  to  see  the  church,  on  an  afternoon, 
when  no  service  was  held.  It  is  one  of  the  finest 
chapels  in  London,  and  was  built  for  Edward  Irving, 
who  entered  the  citv  a  sti'ansrer.  and  soon  became  one 
of  the  most  popular  men  who  ever  stood  in  the  sacred 
desk,  drawing  crowds  of  admiring,  fascinated  hear- 
ers. Of  that  remarkable  man  you  have  all  heard. 
His  short,  eventful  course,  which  for  a  time  shone  with 


THE   MINISTERS    OF  LO^T)ON.  115 

such  splendor,  and  ended  in  such  darkness,  has  been 
spoken  of  by  all  the  lovers  of  eloquence,  and  bewailed 
by  all  the  fiiends  of  Jesus.  For  a  time  he  was  the 
central  object  of  interest,  and  thousands  hung  upon  his 
lips  with  adniii-ation.  But,  intoxicated  with  fame  and 
popularity,  he  imagined  himself  inspired,  and  declared 
that  angels  were  communicating  to  him  the  will  of 
God.  I  went  into  the  chapel  with  my  friend  Overbuiy, 
of  Eagle  Street,  and  gazed  upon  the  walls  which  had 
once  echoed  with  the  eloquence  of  that  wonderful  man, 
whose  name  was  associated  in  my  mind  with  the  high- 
est style  of  eloquence,  and  with  the  most  blinded 
fanaticism.  I  went  up  that  spacious  aisle,  to  the 
elegant  pulpit,  but  Irving  was  not  there.  He  has 
passed  away  to  his  reward.  And  Chalmers,  too.  who 
loved  Ir"\Tng  as  a  brother,  and  who  dedicated  for  him 
his  chapel,  and  whose  voice  had  often  been  heard 
within  those  walls  —  he,  too,  has  gone  home  to  heaveii. 
My  companion  told  me,  that  on  one  occasion  he  went 
in  to  hear  Irving.  An  immense  number  was  crowded 
within  the  walls  of  that  spacious  edifice,  rapt,  fixed, 
lost  in  the  eloquence  of  the  preacher.  Wlien  the  dis- 
course was  about  half  finished,  a  woman  near  the 
pulpit  began  to  make  a  guttural  noise,  which  she  sup- 
posed was  speaking  in  an  unknown  tongue,  afterwards 
interpreting  by  saving,  ••  The  Lord  is  coming,  the  Lord 
is  coming."  Ir'ving  paused,  and  added,  -Yes.  he  is 
coming ;  "  and,  bowing  his  head  upon  the  cushion  of  the 
pulpit,  seemed  overcome  with  emotion.  '•  On  another 
occasion,''  said  my  friend,  '•  scores  were  heard  making 
those  hideous  noises,  or  speaking  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  as  they  called  it ;  and  the  whole  house  echoed 
with  the  soimds."  Poor  Irving  I  the  most  eloquent 
and  the  most  unfortunate  preacher  of  his  times  ! 


116  EUROPA. 

But  we  return  to  Hamilton,  who  now  fills  his  place, 
or  rather  occupies  it,  for  it  is  no  discredit  to  his  suc- 
cessor to  say,  that  no  one  can  fill  the  place  of  Edward 
Irving.  All  remember  that  notable  year  of  our  Lord, 
when  the  Free  Scotch  church  was  formed.  The  old 
Scotch  Covenanter  spirit  had  long  been  curbed  and 
chafed  under  the  irreligious  and  oppressive  enactments 
of  the  establishments,  and,  in  1843,  about  four  hundred 
ministers  of  th^t  order  uttered  a  noble  protest,  and, 
headed  by  Welch  and  Chalmers,  laid  down  their  livings 
and  honors,  and  declared  themselves  independent  of  the 
state.  Old  St.  Giles  never  witnessed  a  nobler  sight, 
than  when,  on  that  day,  those  sainted  men  abandoned 
the  protection  of  government,  and  fled  to  the  throne  of 
God.  Of  these  was  James  Hamilton,  who  is  now  one 
of  the  most  efficient  men  of  the  Free  church.  The 
discourse  which  I  heard  from  his  lips  was  upon  "  over- 
coming faith  ;  "  and  nobly  was  it  preached,  with  all  the 
spirit  of  a  man  who  had  himself  exercised  it,  and  felt 
its  power.  Dr.  Hamilton  has  a  very  happy  faculty  of 
illustrating,  and  pours  out  his  well-chosen  and  perti- 
nent figures  with  the  greatest  abundance.  He  has  a 
somewhat  broad  Scotch  pronunciation,  v/hich  would  be 
oflensive  to  sensitive  ears ;  but  when  aroused,  pronun- 
ciation and  accent  are  alike  forgotten  by  the  hearer, 
who  is  borne  along  irresistibly,  absorbed  in  the  dazzling 
radiance  which  the  eloquence  of  the  speaker  draws 
around  him.  His  church  is  always  full,  and  not  sel- 
dom do  multitudes  go  away  unable  to  find  places  to  sit 
or  stand. 

We  leave  Regent  Square,  and  find  our  way  to  the 
Strand,  and,  as  it  is  Sabbath  evening,  enter  Exeter  Hall, 
where  morning  and  evening  a  service  is  held,  each 
Lord's  day,  during  the  time  of  the  great  exhibition,  for 


THE  MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  117 

strangers.  The  clergymen  of  the  city  officiate  alter- 
nately, and  the  hall  is  always  filled  to  its  utmost  ca- 
pacity. As  we  crowd  our  way  in,  the  whole  assembly 
of  nearly  five  thousand  persons  are  singing, — 

"  So  did  the  Hebrew  prophet  raise 
The  brazen  serpent  high ; 
The  wounded  felt  immediate  ease, 
The  camp  forbore  to  die." 

The  hymn  closes,  and  a  large,  heavy  man,  with  a 
full,  florid  face,  and  a  strong,  deep  voice,  commences 
his  discourse.     He  is 

REV.    WILLIAM    BROCK, 

of  Bloomsbury  Chapel,  said  to  be  the  most  effective 
Baptist  minister  in  London.  His  chapel  is  large,  and 
in  its  construction  and  adornment  superior  to  any  of 
the  same  order  in  the  city ;  and  his  congregation  is  com- 
posed chiefly  of  young,  stirring,  energetic  men.  His 
discourse  on  this  occasion  is  founded  on  the  narrative 
of  the  prodigal  son,  and  he  goes  into  it  with  a  right 
good  will,  setting  all  the  rules  of  rhetoric,  and  correct 
speaking  and  pronunciation,  at  defiance.  His  discourse 
is  a  good  one,  cutting  down  into  the  consciences  of  the 
wicked  and  abandoned,  and  reaching  a  class  of  hearts 
which  would  slumber  under  all  the  refined,  delicate 
sentences  of  Gumming  and  Noel,  and  be  unaffected  by 
all  the  nice  and  chastely-formed  essays  which  could  be 
read  in  Exeter  Hall  from  the  year  of  grace  1851  to 
the  day  of  doom.  His  eloquence  is  of  that  rude,  un- 
cultivated sort  which  tramples  upon  all  laws,  and 
carries  conviction  to  the  masses  by  its  impulsive  and 
overwhelming  energy.  Mr.  Brock  is  a  fine  platform 
speaker,  and  is  always  welcomed  in  Exeter  Hall  with 


118  EUROPA. 

rapturous  applause.  He  lias  none  of  the  sweet,  gentle 
persuasive  of  Mr.  Noel,  nor  the  brilliant,  flashing 
genius  of  Dr.  Gumming,  nor  the  elegant  imagery  of 
the  successor  of  Irving,  but  a  rough,  honest  enthusi- 
asm, which  enables  the  hearer  to  endure  the  constant 
departures  from  the  principles  of  correct  speaking.  In 
the  notes  which  I  took  of  the  sermon  in  Exeter  Hall, 
I  find  a  constant  repetition  of  the  words  "  wern't,"  and 
"  arn't,"  "  teachor,"  and  "  fathor."  Speaking  of  w^hat 
the  prodigal  did,  he  said,  "  That  is  the  sinner  all  over  ;  " 
describing  his  return  to  his  father's  house,  he  said, 
"  He  went  afoot  and  alone,"  which  phrase  only  needed 
the  addition  of  "as  the  girl  went  to  be  married,"  to 
make  it  appear  entirely  ridiculous.  But  while  the 
hearer  cannot  but  notice  these  blemishes,  he  does  not 
feel  a  disposition  to  dwell  upon  them,  for  in  Mr.  Brock 
he  sees  an  ambassador  of  God  who  has  a  great  message 
to  deliver,  and  who  is  faithful  to  his  holy  calling,  con- 
cealing no  truth,  and  covering  up  no  sin. 

On  the  next  evening,  we  go  to  Exeter  Hall  again,  to 
attend  a  great  gathering  which  is  there  to  be  held. 
Just  as  we  enter,  a  short,  plain,  uncomely-looking  man 
rises  to  speak.  He  begins  slowly,  and  seems  laboring 
to  find  utterance  for  the  great  thoughts  which  are 
struggling  in  his  mind.  We  are  almost  disposed  to 
leave  the  hall,  so  unpromising  does  the  speaker  appear. 
But  soon  some  thoughts  arrest  the  attention :  we  will 
stay  a  little  longer.  Now  we  are  interested,  for  we  see 
a  fire  flashing  in  the  eye  of  the  speaker.  More  elo- 
quent he  becomes  every  moment,  and  more  irresistible 
his  enthusiasm.  His  voice  is  not  pleasant ;  his  only 
gesture,  that  of  bringing  his  right  hand  down  with 
terrible  fury  upon  the  rail  before  him,  is  awkward  and 
uncomely.     But  we  are  all-absorbed  in  the  impetuous 


THE  MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  .  119 

torrent  of  living  thoughts  and  burning  words  that 
come  pouring  out  upon  us.  At  every  sentence  the 
speaker  becomes  more  earnest  and  more  eloquent.  The 
perspiration  streams  down  his  face,  and  in  his  vehe- 
mence he  has  thrown  the  thin  hair  down  over  his  broad 
forehead,  until  it  almost  conceals  his  eyes.  And  yet, 
on  he  goes,  until  the  climax  is  reached,  and  he  sits 
down  with  a  sort  of  defiant  look,  as  if  he  had  said, 
"  Beat  this  who  can."     He  is 

REV.    JOSEPH    BEAUMONT, 

the  talented,  manly,  eloquent  leader  of  the  English 
Wesleyans. 

A  hymn  is  sung,  which  comes  swelling  out  from 
nearly  five  thousand  voices,  and  another  speaker  is 
announced.  Unlike  the  one  whom  he  succeeds,  he  is 
a  tall,  broad-chested  man,  whose  gestures  and  words 
are  solemn  as  the  grave.  We  see  no  vehemence,  no 
beating  of  the  rail,  no  jumping  from  side  to  side,  no 
contortions  of  countenance,  but  a  calm,  deliberate  flow 
of  profound  thoughts,  expressed  with  clearness,  and 
attended  with  power.     We  are  listening  to 

REV.    THOMAS    BINNEY, 

the  eloquent  minister  of  the  Independent  or  Congre- 
gational church  in  Monument  Square.  A  few  years 
since,  this  distinguished  man  came  to  our  country,  to 
which  visit  we  heard  him  refer  once  or  twice  in  public. 
But  while  here  he  did  not  seem  to  possess  any  extraor- 
dinary attraction,  and  the  minister  who  in  England 
could  gather  around  him  an  immense  and  admiring 
audience,  in  Boston  failed  to  fill  the  house  of  worship 
in  which  he  preached.  Whatever  might  have  been 
the  cause  of  this,  and  whether  it  is  to  the  discredit  of 


120         .  EUROPA. 

the  minister  or  the  people,  certain  is  it,  that  eloquence 
is  measured  by  a  different  gauge  in  the  two  countries. 
Mr.  Binney  takes  his  seat  amid  the  cheers  of  the  peo- 
ple, and 

REV.    GEORGE    SMITH, 

of  Poplar,  takes  the  stand,  and  enters  at  once  into  an 
impulsive  and  earnest  speech,  which  wins  for  him  the 
golden  opinions  of  the  audience.  He  is  less  command- 
ing in  personal  appearance  than  Mr.  Binney,  less 
vehement  than  Mr.  Beaumont,  less  ornate  than  Dr. 
Gumming.  But  few  men  surpass  him  in  platform 
oratory.  His  words  are  well  chosen,  and  his  thoughts 
pour  out,  giving  us  the  measure  of  a  great  soul.  I 
admire^  a  speech  I  heard  him  make  so  much,  that  I 
walked  one  evening  six  miles  to  hear  him  preach,  but, 
on  arriving  at  his  place  of  worship,  found  the  desk 
occupied  by  a  young  man,  who  was  amusing  himself, 
trifling  with  his  audience,  and  insulting  his  Maker,  by 
a  profoundly  silly  speech  upon  the  origin  of  sin,  and 
the  fall  of  the  rebel  angels,  about  which  he  evidently 
knew  as  little  as  his  audience. 

Leaving  Exeter  Hall,  we  find  our  way  to  Surrey 
Chapel,  a  place  famous  in  the  religious  history  of  Lon- 
don. In  the  pulpit  is  an  old  man,  his  head  white  with 
age,  who  is  preaching  a  discourse  in  behalf  of  the  Lon- 
don Missionary  Society  —  a  formidable  organization, 
whose  annual  income  is  more  than  sixty-eight  thou- 
sand pounds.  The  preacher  is  not  a  city  minister,  but 
as  we  chanced  to  hear  him  there,  and  as  his  name  and 
works  are  known  and  read  in  this  country,  I  cannot 
forbear  to  mention  the  honorable  name  of 

REV.    WILLIAM    JAY, 

whose  "  Morning  and  Evening  Exercises  "  have  assisted 


THE  MINISTERS  OF  LONDON.  121 

SO  many  Christians  in  the  devotions  of  the  family  circle. 
I  was  less  disaj)pointed  in  Mr.  Jay  than  in  any  other 
distinguished  preacher  I  heard.  His  sermon  on  this 
occasion  was  a  rich,  deep,  and  full  presentation  of  a 
glorious  gospel.  A  vein  of  pious  experience  was  run- 
ning through  it,  like  a  thread  of  light ;  and  as  he  stood 
before  me  in  the  solemn  vestures  of  the  house  of  God, 
and  presented  the  message  of  my  Master,  I  thought  he 
realized  more  ful-ly  my  idea  of  an  English  preacher 
than  any  other  man  I  had  heard  in  the  kingdom. 
Whoever  reads  the  works  of  Mr.  Jay  will  have  a  por- 
trait of  the  man,  the  measure  of  his  mind,  and  the 
fervency  of  his  piety.  Three  others  I  will  mention,  and 
then  relieve  your  patience.     The  first  is 

HON.    AND    REV.    BAPTIST    W,    NOEL. 

The  past  history  of  this  distinguished  man  is  some- 
what known  in  this  country.  His  father.  Sir  Girard 
Noel,  was  a  naval  officer  of  some  distinction,  and  his 
mother  a  peeress  of  the  realm.  His  oldest  brother  is 
the  Earl  of  Gainsboro',  and  all  his  relatives  are  of  no- 
ble birth  or  office.  For  a  long  time,  Mr.  Noel  was 
minister  of  St.  John's  Church,  Bedford  Row,  where  he 
drew  admiring  crowds  of  hearers.  The  rich  and  poor 
came  together  to  be  pleased  and  benefited  by  his 
simple  instructions.  For  many  years,  he  has  been  re- 
garded as  a  man  of  very  liberal  views  and  feelings,  and 
on  various  occasions  has  incurred  the  reproofs  of  his 
superiors  in  office  (he  has  no  superior  in  true  nobility 
of  nature)  for  his  resistance  to  their  invasions  upon  the 
rights  of  the  people.  A  few  years  since  he  became 
convinced  that  a  union  of  church  and  state  could  not 
be  justified  on  gospel  principles,  and,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  his  former  ecclesiastical  associates,  announced 
16  K 


122  EUEOPA. 

his  intention  of  leaving  the  church  of  England.  The 
tidings  spread  through  the  great  city,  carrying  conster- 
nation to  the  supporters  of  a  state  church,  and  joy  to 
the  hearts  of  the  dissenters.  What  denomination  he 
would  join  became  a  matter  of  some  solicitude ;  but  all 
doubt  Avas  soon  removed  by  his  baptism  in  the  old 
chapel  once  owned  and  occupied  by  the  sainted  Evans. 
Kemoving  from  his  former  more  elegant  and  commo- 
dious place  of  worshix3,  he  entered  the  chapel  wherein 
he  was  immersed,  and  at  once  drew  around  him  an 
affectionate  and  wealthy  congregation.  In  this  chapel, 
which  is  about  as  large  as  our  own  house  of  worship, 
I  heard  him  preach.  His  discourse  was  on  the  fidelity 
of  Caleb,  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Numbers.  With 
great  clearness  and  simplicity,  the  preacher  contrasted 
the  conduct  of  Caleb  with  that  of  his  friends,  and  in 
a  very  pleasing  manner  pointed  out  the  rewards  of  the 
faithful  Christian.  He  did  not  allude  to  himself,  yet 
no  one  could  fail  to  see  in  Mr.  Noel  a  living  exhibition 
of  the  spirit  eyhibited  by  Caleb.  Amid  the  reproaches 
of  his  friends,  and  the  astonishment  of  the  whole  na- 
tion, he  had  left  a  wealthy  and  influential  body,  which 
lived  under  the  protection  of  the  greatest  kingdom  on 
earth,  and  united  with  an  unhonored  and  despised  body, 
and  meekly  bore  the  reproaches  of  them  who  said, 
"Thou  art  beside  thyself;  much  learning  hath  made 
thee  mad." 

I  was  disappointed  in  Mr.  Noel's  style  of  pulpit 
address.  I  expected  to  hear  something  which  would 
electrify  the  audience,  and  come  up  to  a  high  idea 
which  I  had  received  from  a  friend,  who,  with  enthusi- 
astic admiration,  described  Mr.  Noel  as  the  "  greatest 
preacher  in  the  kingdom."  The  discourse  under  men- 
tion was  preached  in  a  quiet  and  unostentatious  style, 


THE  MINISTERS  OF  LONDON.  123 

without  notes,  and  in  a  sweet  and  gentle  tone  of  voice. 
There  were  no  sublime  flights,  no  passages  of  overpow- 
ering eloquence,  no  outbursts  of  enthusiasm,  but  a 
clear,  ingenuous  flow  of  holy  thoughts,  which,  like  a 
gentle  stream  rippling  on  ever,  gilded  by  the  silvery 
rays  of  the  moon,  made  the  hearer  forget  the  lapse  of 
time,  and  sit  with  delight,  until  the  close.  I  think 
I  never  listened  to  so  long  a  sermon  with  so  little  wea- 
riness, or  went  away  from  the  sanctuary  with  a  greater 
desire  to  come  again. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Mr.  Noel  is  prepossessing. 
His  forehead  is  high  and  broad ;  his  hair  is  brown,  and 
carefully  adjusted,  yet  without  unnecessary  precision  ; 
and  his  whole  countenance  bears  the  marks  of  a  sweet, 
gentle  serenity.  I  have  seen  more  beautiful  features ; 
but  I  never  saw  a  countenance  in  which  love  and  iDurity, 
meekness  and  grace,  were  more  evident. 

The  impression  which  I  formed  of  this  much-loved 
man  was  confirmed  by  a  visit  which  I  afterwards  made 
to  his  fine  residence  at  Hornsey,  about  six  miles  from 
his  chapel  m  John  Street.  The  meekness  and  sweet- 
ness of  disposition  which  are  so  noticeable  in  the  pulpit 
become  more  evident  as  he  converses  in  his  own  dwell- 
ing. His  visitors  are  at  once  at  ease  by  the  dignified 
familiarity  with  which  he  receives  them,  and  the  readi- 
ness with  which  he  enters  into  their  views  and  projects. 
I  saw  but  few  men  in  England  whose  courtesy  and 
kindness  made  a  deeper  impression  upon  my  mind 
than  that  of  the  gifted  nobleman  who  stands  so  de- 
servedly at  the  head  of  the  Baptist  clergymen  of 
London. 

There  is  another  name  which  will  be  mentioned  to 
every  person  in  London  who  inquires  for  the  most  dis- 
tinguished preacher.     I  refer  to  that  of 


124  EUEOPA. 


REV.  DR.  MELVILLE, 


who,  every  Tuesday  morning,  delivers  what  is  called 
the  "  golden  lecture,"  in  St.  Margaret's  Church,  Loth- 
bury.  The  fame  of  this  distinguished  man,  who,  like 
Mr.  Noel,  is  a  nobleman,  has  gone  abroad.  His  works 
are  read  extensively  in*  this  country,  and  are  much  ad- 
mired ;  and  many  a  poor  clergyman  has  sharpened  his 
own  dull  sword  on  the  sides  of  the  pyramids  of  thought 
which  Melville  has  erected,  and  lighted  his  own  lamp 
at  fires  which  were  kindled  in  Camberwell. 

So,  one  morning,  I  went  in  with  a  large  number  of 
friends  to  hear  the  "  golden  lecture,"  as  this  is  known  to 
be  one  of  the  choicest  efforts  of  the  preacher.  Loth- 
bury  Church  is  an  uncomely  structure,  displaying  little 
architectural  taste.  It  will  contain  about  fifteen  hun- 
dred persons,  and  is  generally  well  filled  at  this  lecture. 
On  entering,  a  woman  came  forward,  and,  with  a  bun- 
dle of  keys,  unlocked  a  pew  door,  and  thrust  us  in; 
and  for  half  an  hour  we  amused  ourselves  with  looking 
at  the  church  and  its  adornments.  Behind  the  chancel 
are  two  paintings  of  Moses  and  Aaron,  which  I  at  first 
mistook  for  Jack  the  Giant-killer  and  his  wife  Hepze- 
bah.  On  the  walls,  all  around,  are  marble  slabs,  bear- 
ing inscriptions  in  praise  of  the  dead,  most  of  them, 
doubtless,  more  beautiful  than  true.  One  of  them, 
after  describing  the  virtues  of  the  dead,  closed  by  this 
remark :  "  who,  having  the  wisdom  to  know  when  he 
had  enough,  was  also  endowed  with  the  virtue  to  enjoy 
it."  While  we  were  looking  around  the  house,  —  for 
we  sat  in  a  pew  where  we  could  see  most  of  the  congre- 
gation,— an  aged  man  marched  pomj)ously  up  the  aisle, 
entered  the  reading-desk,  and  commenced  reading  the 
service  with  such  a  tone,  and  such  a  look,  and  such  a 


THE  MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  125 

drawl,  that  the  most  patient  man  could  hardly  have 
endured  it.  He  contmued,  for  about  half  an  hour,  to 
murder  the  beautiful  prayers  and  the  more  sublime 
scrip tiu-es  which  are  set  apart  for  the  morning  service 
of  the  English  church.  This  done,  a  woman  is  seen 
passing  along  the  aisle,  putting  one  aside  this  way,  and 
another  the  other  way,  followed  quietly  by  a  man  of 
about  fifty-five  years  of  age,  whom  we  recognized  at 
once  as  Mr.  Melville.  He  is  escorted  to  the  pulpit  by 
the  woman,  who  shuts  him  in  ;  his  head  bows  on  the 
cushion  until  the  hymn  is  done,  wiien  he  rises  and  offers 
a  short  extempore  prayer,  and  enters  upon  his  discourse. 
His  hair  is  slightly  gray ;  his  eye  keen,  and  piercing 
black ;  his  form  robust  and  manly ;  and  his  counte- 
nance regular,  and  full  of  fire.  I  should  not  call  him  a 
graceful  speaker.  His  gestures  are  few,  and  his  words 
are  jerked  out  in  a  somewhat  unpleasant  manner.  He 
is  confined  closely  to  his  notes,  which  evidently  are 
prepared  with  great  care. 

The  first  time  I  listened  to  him,  he  was  endeavQiring 
to  show  that  all  the  members  of  the  church  are  of  a 
royal  line,  and  are  priests  to  God.  The  death  of  Christ 
brings  all  men  into  a  position  where  they  may  assume 
this  priestly  office.  The  church  is  composed  not  of  a 
bench  of  bishops,  but  of  all  who,  by  the  baptism  of 
infancy,  have  been  brought  into  it.  The  minister  is  a 
priest  unto  the  church ;  the  Christian  is  a  priest  unto 
the  world.  The  dividing  line  between  the  church  and 
the  world  was  made  by  baptism.  If  I  understand 
aright,  the  doctrine  of  baptismal  regeneration  Avas 
taught,  and  some  of  the  most  objectionable  features 
of  high  churchism  defended.  The  discourse,  as  a 
whole,  was  of  much  power.  It  was  impressed  by  all 
the  evidences  of  a  great  mind.     Thoughts,  in  massive 


126  EUEOPA. 

blocks,  were  laid  down,  and  a  superstructure  raised 
Trhicli  could  not  be  easily  demolished.  While  I  could 
not  consider  the  sentiments  advanced  as  scriptural,  I 
could  admire  the  logic,  and  be  charmed  by  the  finished 
eloquence.  A  high  churchman  would  call  such  a  dis- 
course "  a  mighty  effort." 

I  listened  to  Mr.  Melville  again,  on  another  occa- 
sion, as  he  was  discoursing  upon  another  theme,  when 
my  previous  impressions  were  confirmed,  and  I  saw 
pervading  every  sentence  of  Ms  discourse  that  rich, 
evangelical  vem  of  thought  which  runs  through  so 
many  of  his  published  discourses,  and  which  has  given 
him  so  much  fame  on  both  sides  of  the  ocean. 

We  must  hurry  now  to  a  new  scene.  It  is  Sabbath 
morning,  and  we  find  ourselves  in  front  of  St.  George's 
Cathedral,  where  we  are  to  see  and  hear 

CARDI>"AL    WISEMAN. 

"We  pay  oiu'  tribute  at  the  door,  and  pass  into  the 
gloomy-looking  edifice,  and  find  the  ser^sdce  already 
commenced.  Eobed  priests  and  ignorant  people  are 
chanting  songs  which  cany  us  at  once  back  to  the  mid- 
dle ages,  and  set  us  down  amid  the  mummeries  of  olden 
times.  The  very  music  seems  to  squeak  and  groan ; 
the  walls  seem  to  echo  back  sad  sounds ;  and  every 
line  of  the  service  tells  of  martyrdom.  But  as  this 
may  be  all  the  effect  "of  imagination,  we  let  it  pass. 

After  chanting  and  prating,  getting  up  and  sitting 
down,  bowing  and  standing,  kneeling  and  sitting,  burn- 
ing incense  and  sprinkling  water,  the  cardinal  mounts 
into  the  pulpit,  and  commences  a  discourse  upon  the 
"  Mission  of  Immanuel."  The  personal  appearance  of 
the  prelate  is  coarse,  and  his  speech,  on  this  occasion, 
was   weak  and  inefficient.      His  hair  is  changing  to 


THE  MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  127 

gray ;  his  forehead  is  low ;  his  cheeks  full  and  red. 
Cunning  is  stamped  upon  every  line  of  his  counte- 
nance ;  and  I  think  any  one  who  is  accustomed  to  study 
the  expressions  of  the  human  face  would  mark  our 
subject  as  a  man  of  duplicity  and  fraud.  I  saw  no 
public  man  in  England  who  possessed  such  a  repulsive 
exterior,  in  whose  features  there  was  such  an  exhibition 
of  gross  and  sensual  passion. 

One  day,  while  walking  along  the  streets  of  London, 
I  saw  a  caricature  of  the  cardinal.  He  was  represented 
as  holding  a  mask  before  his  face,  the  mask  bearing 
the  features  of  the  adorable  Savior.  From  behind  the 
mask  the  cardinal  was  looking  out,  as  if  he  had  just 
lifted  the  covering.  His  own  gross  and  cunning  look 
contrasted  painfully  with  the  mild,  benevolent,  saint- 
like look  of  Jesus,  whose  character  has  been  stolen  by 
the  prelate  to  cover  up  his  own  wicked  and  daring 
schemes. 

Nor  does  the  face  of  Mr.  Wiseman  belie  his  charac- 
ter. He  is  what  he  looks  to  be,  and  has  become  an 
object  of  contempt  to  the  whole  English  nation.  Dr. 
Gumming,  of  Crown  Court,  related  to  me  an  incident 
which  will  give  an  illustration  of  the  general  character 
of  this  leading  ecclesiastical  of  the  Catholic  church  in 
England.  The  doctor  had  stated  publicly  that  Pius  IX. 
and  Cardinal  Wiseman,  according  to  the  law^s  of  their 
church,  had  taken  an  oath  to  persecute  heretics  to  the 
best  of  their  ability.  Dr.  Doyle,  the  suffragan  Bishop 
of  Westminster,  denied  the  fact  as  far  as  it  related  to 
the  cardinal,  and  declared,  in  the  name  of  his  superior, 
that  he  took  no  such  oath.  This  denial  was  sent  to 
several  newspapers  of  the  metropolis,  and  Dr.  Cum- 
ming  stood  charged  with  slander.  To  relieve  himself, 
he   obtained,  as  far  as  possible,  every  edition  of  the 


128  EUROPA. 

Pontifical ;  and  in  all  of  them  the  persecuting  clause  was 
found,  and  he  wrote  to  the  papers  which  had  published 
Doyle's  denial  to  this  effect.  Soon  after,  he  received  a 
line  from  the  secretary  of  Cardinal  Wiseman,  stating 
that,  by  the  special  indulgence  of  his  holiness  the  pope, 
this  objectionable  article  had  been  left  out  in  the  case 
of  bishops  who  were  subjects  of  the  English  crown, 
and  that  Dr.  Gumming  might  examine  the  Pontifical 
for  himself  Taking  with  him  two  friends,  Dr.  Gum- 
ming proceeded  on  his  errand,  very  glad  to  be  able  to 
satisfy  his  own  doubts,  and  to  atone,  if  he  had  done 
the  cardinal  an  unintentional  wrong.  The  remainder 
of  the  story  I  will  tell  in  his  own  words. 

"  On  our  arrival  at  the  cardinal's  house,  a  page  came 
to  the  door.  I  asked,  'Is  the  cardinal  at  homer  'No, 
sir,'  he  said ;  '  his  eminence  left  town  on  Saturday.'  I 
said,  '  I  am  very  sorry  for  it ;  for  I  appointed  to  meet 
him  to-day  to  inspect  a  book.'  The  lad  said  he  sup- 
posed the  secretary  could  answer  me.  We  then  sent  in 
our  cards ;  and  the  secretary  very  courteously  received 
us,  and  show^ed  us  into  a  large  room,  over  the  mantel 
shelf  of  which  there  was  a  splendid  ivory  crucifix  and 
some  illuminated  texts.  I  told  the  secretary  our  errand, 
and  he  said  he  perfectly  understood  it.  He  then  brought 
to  us  a  truly  magnificent  Pontifical,  the  most  beautiful 
one  I  ever  saw,  with  richly-illuminated  engravings.  He 
opened  the  book,  and  showed  us  a  blank  leaf,  on  which 
the  oath  was  written,  having  the  persecuting  clause  left 
out.  I  said,  '  In  this  country,  when  an  alteration  is 
made  in  a  will,  or  in  a  lease,  there  are  always  initials 
attached  to  that  alteration.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you 
for  showing  it  to  me,  but  this  does  not  seem  to  have 
•any  authority  beyond  the  fact  of  its  being  written  on 
his  eminence's  Pontifical.'     I  then  turned  to  the  oath 


THE  MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  129 

taken  by  a  bishop,  (my  charge,  be  it  remembered,  had 
reference  to  archbishops,)  and  there  I  found  that  a  pen 
had  been  carefully  drawn  across  the  persecuting  clause, 
but  leaving  it  legible  enough.  '  By  whom  was  this 
done  1 '  I  asked.  '  I  do  not  know,  sir,'  he  replied. 
'  On  what  authority  was  it  done V  'I  have  no  instruc- 
tions.' The  ink,  I  may  mention,  was  jet  black.  There 
were  no  initials.  It  was  argued,  by  a  defendant  of  the 
cardinal,  that  the  ink  was  applied  thirty  years  ago.  If 
it  was  so,  the  inkmaker  ought  to  be  canonized.  This 
miracle  beats  any  of  Liguori's.  Every  paper  of  mine 
that  has  been  covered  with  ink  ten  years  has  turned  red 
and  rusty,  owing  to  the  action  of  the  acid  in  the  atmos- 
phere ;  but  this  wonderful  ink  has  stood  thirty  years 
unscathed,  and  become  blacker  the  older  it  grows ! 
This,  I  said,  was  one  of  the  most  wonderful  miracles 
the  church  of  Rome  could  produce ;  that,  thirty  years 
ago,  before  Morel  or  Walkden  were  born,  there  was  ink 
made  so  splendid,  that  it  defied  wind  and  weather,  acid 
and  alkali,  and  was  as  black  on  the  day  I  go  to  see  it 
as  it  ever  was  before.  So  far,  so  wonderful.  But  I  was 
anxious  to  make  my  charge  good,  and  I  turned  to  the 
service  for  an  archbishop  receiving  the  pallium  —  an 
archiepiscopal  cloak,  woven,  as  I  have  already  shown, 
from  the  wool  of  certain  sheep,  presented  once  a  year 
by  the  nuns  of  St.  Agnes.  The  sheep  are  ceremoni- 
ously set  apart,  and  ceremoniously  shorn  ;  and  the  wool 
is  worked  into  a  palliurd,  Avhich  is  given  to  a  bishop 
when  he  is  made  an  archbishop.  The  receiver  cannot 
transfer  it  to  another ;  he  must  be  buried  in  it  when  he 
dies.  This  pallium  is  said,  in  the  Pontifical,  to  possess 
the  '  full  pontifical  virtue.'  Tractarians  say  that  their 
apostolical  succession  is  transmitted  from  link  to  link, 
like  the  electric  fluid  along  the  wires  of  a  telegraph ; 
17 


130  EUKOPA. 

but  they  have  a  far  quicker  way  of  doing  the  business 
at  Rome.  When  the  pallium  is  put  on  the  shoulder, 
the  sacred  virtue  penetrates  every  pore,  till  the  archie- 
piscopal  wearer  is  within  an  inch  of  explosion  with 
pontifical  virtue.  I  looked  at  the  oath  taken  by  the 
archbishop  on  receiving  this  pallium,  and,  to  my  utter 
astonishment,  and  that  of  Admiral  Harcourt  also,  who 
could  scarcely  believe  his  senses,  I  read  in  it  the  very 
clause  —  '  Hereticos,  schismaticos,  et  rehelles,  Domino 
nostro,  vel  successorihus  prcedictis,  pro  p)Osse,  persequar 
et  impugnaho,'  unaltered  and  untouched.  I  then  said 
to  the  secretary,  '  This  is  just  what  I  alleged.  I  said 
that  the  archbishop,  on  taking  the  pallium,  swears  to 
persecute  and  attack  us  heretics.  You  have  shown  me 
the  service,  and  here  stands  the  very  clause.  Dr.  Wise- 
man's own  Pontifical  confirms  all.  How  do  you  explain 
this  1 '  He  turned  very  pale,  and  bowed  out  of  the 
room,  saying,  '  I  am  not  a  priest,  sir ;  I  am  not  a  priest.' 
I  copied  the  clause  out  carefully.  I  have  often  set  my 
wits  to  work  to  ascertain  how  this  sad  retention  of  the 
clause  in  one  service  had  happened." 

I  asked  Dr.  Gumming  if  he  did  not,  while  thus  ex- 
posing the  artifices  of  the  church  of  Rome,  fear  per- 
sonal injury  from  some  of  the  satellites  of  the  pope. 
"  O,  no,"  said  he ;  "  there  are  here  so  many  Catholics 
of  standing  and  character,  who  would  not  like  to  be 
connected  with  violence  and  murder,  that  they  would 
frown  down  any  attempt  to  injure  a  Protestant.  They 
would  lose  their  character  by  such  an  attempt.  In 
your  country  it  is  dififerent,  as  the  Catholics  occupy  a 
very  different  position." 

Would  time  and  space  admit,  I  might  dwell  longer 
upon  the  frauds  and  duplicity  of  Cardinal  Wiseman, 
the  head  of  the  Catholic  church  in  the  dominions  of 


THE    MINISTERS   OF  LONDON.  131 

the  queen.     I  would   also   love  to   dwell  upon  many 
pleasant  interviews  with  Rev.  Messrs.  Stovel  and  Over- 
bury,  with  whom  I  formed  a  pleasant    acquaintance, 
and  whose  kindness  I  have  occasion  to  remember.     I 
might  also  give  some  rapid  portraits  of  Dr.  Croly,  the 
author   of   Salathiel,    and    the   Angel   of  the  World, 
who  is  now  in  the  decline  of  life ;  of  Montgomery,  the 
poet,  whose  works  have  been  so  mercilessly  handled  by 
Macaulay  ;  of  William  Chalmers,  who  bears  the  name, 
and  inherits  much  of  the  greatness,   of  his  departed 
relative  ;    of    the    many    distinguished     ministers     of 
Jesus,  whose  voices  I  heard   in  eloquent  pleadings  in 
their  own  pulpits,  or  in  Exeter  Hall,  the  great  theater 
of  moral  and  benevolent  controversy.     As  much  as  I 
admired  many  of  the  clergymen  of  London,  I  do  not 
think  they  are  superior  in  oratory  to  our  own  ministers. 
Many  of  the  most  eloquent  men  in  London  would  be 
considered  dull  here,  and  some  who  have  large  crowds 
attending  upon  their  preaching  would  hardly  draw  con- 
gregations in  Boston  and  New  York.     They  use  more 
words,  and  their  discourses   are  far  less  compact  and 
nicely  finished,  than  our  own  preachers.      And  yet  I 
should  judge  them  to  be,  on  the  whole,  more  efficient 
men,  doing  more  good  than  men  of  like  eminence  in 
our  own  country.     They  enter  into  the  great  measures 
of  the  day,  the  reforms  of  the  age,  with  more  zeal  than 
our  ministers,  and  many  of  them  shine  more  on  the 
platform  than  in  the  pulpit.     But  for  eloquence,  finish, 
and  mental  power,  I  do  not  think  they  excel,  and  of 
all  the  men  I  heard,  but  one  or  two  would  be  likely  to 
draw  large  congregations  in  New  England.     In  this 
general  estimate  of  the  ministers  of  London,  I  think 
my  traveling  companions  concurred. 


132  EUROPA. 


VIII. 

BUNHILL  FIELDS. 

We  have  seen  the  living  ministers  of  this  great 
metropolis ;  we  have  visited  their  churches  ;  we  have 
heard  their  voices,  and  it  is  fitting  that  we  should  now 
direct  our  steps  to  a  spot  where  reposes  some  of  Eng- 
land's most  precious  dust,  in  humble  and  venerated 
charnels.  Every  body  has  heard  of  Bunhill  Fields, 
where  so  many  of  the  old  Nonconformist  ministers  are 
interred.  It  was  on  one  dull,  melancholy  day,  when 
such  clouds  as  are  never  seen  any  where  else  but  in 
London  were  resting  like  a  pall  all  around,  that  I 
directed  my  steps  towards  this  hallowed  spot.  I  con- 
fess to  no  superstitious  reverence  for  stones  and  blocks 
of  marble,  be  they  found  in  old  ruined  abbeys,  cold, 
stately  cathedrals,  or  time-honored  cemeteries ;  but  as 
I  entered  Bunhill  Fields,  I  could  not  divest  myself  of 
the  idea  that  sainted  forms  were  hovering  round,  and 
instinctively  the  tread  became  lighter,  and  the  conver- 
sation less  gay,  as  one  name  after  another  was  studied 
out  upon  time-defaced  marble.  One  of  the  first  graves 
over  which  I  paused  was  that  of  Mrs.  Susannah 
Wesley,  the  mother  of  John  and  Charles.  She  was  the 
wife  of  Rev.  Samuel  Wesley,  and  the  daughter  of  a 
clergyman.  A  plain  slab  marks  the  spot  where  she 
lies,  and  by  it  we  are  informed  that  she  was  the  mother 
of  nineteen  children,  several  of  whom  became  eminent 
men  in  their  times.     The  name  of  the  mother  of  John 


BUNHILL  FIELDS.  133 

Wesley  deserves  to  be  remembered.  It  is  worthy  of  a 
higher  place  in  the  esteem  of  men  than  that  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  or  any  of  the  proud  dames  who  thronged 
her  court,  and  enjoyed  her  bounties. 

At  a  little  distance  is  the  grave  of  John  Bunyan, 
whose  name  will  never  die.  The  stone  which  covers 
him  is  large  and  uncomely;  the  inscription  is  nearly 
effaced,  and  the  whole  bears  the  marks  of  neglect  and 
time.  What  Christian  would  visit  London  without 
shedding  a  tear  over  the  grave  of  Bunyan  1  It  must 
be  some  one  whose  heart  has  not  been  made  glad  by 
the  perusal  of  that  delightful  allegory,  penned  by  him 
in  the  shades  of  a  gloomy  prison.  That  grave  is  one 
of  the  most  sacred  pilgrim  spots  which  I  visited  during 
my  absence  from  home.  Bunyan  has  crossed  the  River 
of  Death,  and  been  admitted  into  the  Celestial  City, 
and  his  grave  is  with  us  unto  this  day. 

Near  by  rest  the  ashes  of  Dr.  Isaac  Watts,  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel :  his  mission  of  minstrelsy  has  ceased. 
On  a  large,  square  stone  we  see  his  name  and  age ;  and 
a  simple  inscription  which  he  ordered  to  be  put  there, 
and  which  can  hardly  be  read  without  tears  — "  In 
uno  Jesu  omniay 

Not  far  away,  we  find  the  remains  of  Dr.  John  Gill, 
the  able  expounder  of  a  strong  Calvinist  theology,  and 
near  by  him  Dr.  John  Owen,  whose  name  we  love,  and 
whose  works  are  read  by  many  a  fireside.  In  other 
parts  of  this  burial  field  are  the  ashes  of  noble  men 
who  lived  for  God,  and  of  whom  the  world  was  not 
worthy,  and  on  whose  simple  gravestones  may  be  read 
the  names  of  Richard  Price,  George  Burder,  Nathaniel 
Mather,  and  a  multitude  of  others  who  endeared  them- 
selves to  a  grateful  church  by  their  holy  lives  and  self- 
denying  labors. 


134  EUROPA. 

A^Tien  we  had  wandered  about  a  while  in  this  loved 
retreat,  we  crossed  over  to  the  chapel  built  by  John 
Wesley.  It  is  a  very  fine  structure,  and  in  its  day 
must  have  been  deemed  elegant.  Its  walls  once  echoed 
with  salvation  proclaimed  by  lips  which  have  now 
crumbled  away  to  dust.  There  the  father  of  Method- 
ism held  forth  upon  themes  which  astonished  angels, 
and  there  to  him  listened  such  audiences  as  are  now 
seldom  gathered  by  his  successors. 

In  the  graveyard  in  the  rear  of  the  chapel  are  the 
remains  of  Wesley,  and  over  them  rises  a  neat  stone 
monument ;  and  at  a  little  distance  is  the  grave  of 
Charles  Wesley.  The  next  tomb  is  that  of  Dr.  Adam 
Clarke,  the  commentator.  The  mark  of  this  is  a  square 
stone,  with  his  name  and  date  of  his  death  upon  it, 
also  an  engraved  candle,  with  a  motto,  which,  as  near 
as  I  remember,  signifies,  "  I  am  consumed  away  for 
another."  Speaking  of  Adam  Clarke,  reminds  me  of  an 
amusing  incident.  Some  years  ago,  a  class  of  students, 
in  the  divinity  college  in  Andover,  were  reciting  to  a 
well-known  and  much-beloved  instructor,  when  one  of 
the  students  was  led  by  some  remark  to  ask  the  pro- 
fessor what  he  thought  of  the  theory  of  Dr.  Clarke, 
namely,  that  Satan  appeared  to  our  first  parents  in 
the  form  of  an  ape  or  monkey.  The  professor  immedi- 
ately replied,  Mitli  a  look  for  which  he  is  peculiar, 
"  Be  careful,  young  man,  that  xldam  Clarke's  monkey 
don't  catch  you." 

Here  also  lies  the  body  of  Rev.  Richard  Watson,  a 
name  favorably  known  among  Methodists  of  all  lands, 
and  all  around  are  the  remains  of  many  of  the  in- 
fluential clergy  of  the  Wesleyan  connection.  Their 
labors  are  finished,  and  here,  in  a  spot  where,  doubt- 
less,   they    would    most    wish    to    sleep,    their   ashes 


BUNHILL  FIELDS.  135 

await  the  voice  of  God  and  the  trump  of   the  arch- 
angel. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  yard,  a  chamber  near  by- 
was  pointed  out  as  the  one  in  which  John  Wesley  died 
—  a  spot  hallowed  by  receiving  the  last  breath  of  the 
dying  man. 

The  Christian  will  love  also  to  visit  the  old  taberna- 
cle of  Whitefield,  which  he  built,  and  where  he  preached 
to  the  immense  crowds  who  loved  to  listen  to  his  voice, 
and  were  moved  by  his  exhortation.  It  is  an  unassum- 
ing edifice,  and  proves  AVhiteiield  to  have  been  possessed 
of  no  great  taste  in  architectural  matters.  It  does  not 
compare  with  the  more  elegant  house  of  Wesley.  Its 
value  arises  from  its  connection  with  that  most  wonder- 
ful man,  whose  labors  were  given  to  two  continents ; 
whose  birthplace  was  in  England;  and  whose  bones 
are  now  crumbling  in  the  vaults  of  one  of  the  churches 
of  America. 

As  I  visited  Bunhill  Fields,  and  those  old  chapels,  I 
could  but  remember  the  fate  of  all  men  ;  and  my  mind 
turned  to  the  time  when  Gumming,  Noel,  Melville,  and 
others  will  have  descended  to  the  grave,  and,  like  Ir- 
ving, Wesley,  Chalmers,  and  Whitefield,  will  repose  in 
the  cold,  wet  tomb.  The  living  ministers  of  Jesus  are 
gomg  down  to  rest  with  those  whose  ashes  moulder  in 
the  shades.  On  this  side  of  the  water,  death  is  doing- 
its  work,  and  the  ministry  is  losing  its  brightest  orna- 
ments. But  the  same  overruling  Providence  which  has 
taken  away  will  give  anew ;  the  sacramental  hosts  will 
remain  strong  and  flourishing;  and  on  the  walls  of 
Zion  will  still  continue  to  stand  the  living  herald  of 
the  great  salvation. 


136  EUEOPA. 


IX. 

ROYALTY  AND   ARISTOCRACY. 

English  society  exists  in  wide  extremes  —  on  one 
side,  towering  wealth,  pride,  and  fashion ;  on  the  other, 
degradation  and  wretchedness.  There  is  no  place  in 
the  world  where  a  man  may  live  in  the  midst  of  so 
many  gay,  fashionable  influences,  provided  he  has 
money,  as  in  London ;  and  there  is  no  place  where  he 
■may  suffer  more,  or  feel  more  lonely,  if  fortune  has 
forsaken  him,  than  in  that  same  city.  While  there,  I 
saw  a  little  of  both  ends  of  life,  and  think  I  can  say 
more  truly  now  than  ever,  with  an  ancient  Hebrew, 
"  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ;  "  for  in  my  heart 
I  would  rush  as  soon  from  the  position  occupied  by 
many  of  the  nobles  of  that  great  kingdom,  as  from  the 
poverty  of  the  poor,  uneducated,  but  honest  yeomanry 
of  the  poorer  districts. 

On  the  throne  of  England  now  sits  a  queen  who  is  a 
favorite  to  an  unusual  extent.  Wherever  I  went,  I 
found  the  people  enthusiastic  in  her  praises.  I  scarcely 
heard  a  sermon,  prayer,  or  public  speech  in  which  the 
name  of  Victoria  did  not  find  a  place ;  and  I  was  some- 
what amused  to  find  how  soon  an  American,  with  a 
decided  contempt  for  royalty,  and  who  holds  the  baby 
play  of  kings  and  queens  in  derision,  can  fall  into  the 
habit  of  crying,  "  God  save  the  queen !  " 

The  first  time  I  saw  her  majesty  was  one  day  in  the 
great  exhibition,  when,  with  Prince  Albert  and  several 


EOYALTY  AND   ARISTOCRACY.  137 

of  her  friends,  she  came  in  to  lend  her  presence  to  the 
occasion.  As  I  was  passing  along,  admiring  the  objects 
of  interest,  a  hurried  whisper  — "  The  queen  is  com- 
ing"—  called  my  attention;  and,  the  crowd  falling 
back,  I  saw  advancing  her  majesty,  leaning  upon  the 
arm  of  Prince  Frederic  William  of  Prussia.  Prince 
Albert  was  escorting  the  Princess  Louisa  of  Prussia, 
and  behind  them  followed  several  gentlemen  and  ladies 
of  the  court.  A  description  of  the  queen  is  somewhat 
difficult,  inasmuch  as  she  looked  so  much  like  other 
ladies,  that  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  her  from  those 
who  attended  her.  She  breathed  the  air,  walked  upon 
the  ground,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  was  human,  like 
those  who  gazed  on  in  such  admiration.  It  may  be 
interesting  to  the  ladies  to  know  something  of  her 
dress,  which  Vvas  as  plain  as  one  half  of  those  worn 
that  day  in  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  less  gaudy  than 
some  I  saw  last  Sabbath  in  the  streets  of  our  own  city. 
Her  dress  was  a  green  changeable  silk.  Over  her 
shoulders  was  carelessly  thrown  a  black  "  Jenny  Lind," 
which  now  and  then  would  fall,  leaving  her  neck  cov- 
ered by  a  collar  of  plain-worked  lace,  fastened  with  a 
single  brilliant.  On  her  head  was  an  orange-colored 
silk  bonnet,  with  a  few  blue  flowers  and  a  simple  rib- 
in  inside.  She  is  a  small,  delicately-formed  woman, 
plain,  but  prepossessing,  with  but  little  to  distinguish 
her  as  the  queen  of  this  powerful  nation.  Prince  Al- 
bert is  a  fine-looking  man,  and  is  very  much  respected 
and  beloved  by  the  people.  I  afterwards  saw  them,  on 
various  occasions,  in  the  exhibition,  and  riding  out  with 
their  children.  On  almost  every  fine  day  in  summer, 
a  plain  carriage,  with  a  single  outrider,  may  be  seen 
driving  through  Hyde  Park,  and  in  it  Albert,  Prince  of 
Wales,  Prince  Alfred,  the  Princess  Poyal,  and  Princess 

18  L* 


138  EUROPA. 

Alice ;  for  by  these  imposing  titles  are  these  children 
called.  I  also  saw,  on  one  or  two  occasions,  the  Duch- 
ess of  Kent,  and  other  persons  connected  with  the  royal 
family.  Kings  and  queens  may  become  familiarized  to 
their  mode  of  life,  and  learn  to  love  it,  but  in  what 
way  I  do  not  see.  What  peace  or  domestic  enjoyment 
Victoria  can  have,  it  is  hard  to  tell.  Every  particular 
relating  to  her  movements  is  mentioned  in  the  public 
journals.  "Who  dines  with  her,  who  dances  with  her, 
to  whom  she  speaks,  when  she  sits,  what  she  wears, 
and  where  she  goes,  are  all  matters  which  are  recorded 
every  morning  with  all  the  certainty  of  the  appearance 
of  the  Times.  The  most  minute  particulars,  the  little 
affairs  of  table  talk,  are  all  paraded  before  the  public. 
Her  majesty  is  thus  subjected  to  a  species  of  compli- 
mentary espionage  and  voluntary  slavery  which  must 
often  be  most  tedious  and  unpleasant.  It  seems  to  me 
that  a  crown  is  not  worth  what  it  costs  to  keep  it ;  but 
of  that  others  may  be  better  judges.  The  Queen  of 
England  is  much  beloved  by  her  people,  and  strangers 
in  London  are  always  eager  to  see  her.  The  gate  of 
the  palace  is  besieged  in  the  afternoon  by  a  crowd, 
waiting  to  see  her  drive  out ;  and  as  she  dashes  on,  con- 
gratulations and  blessings  are  heaped  upon  her.  She 
may  thank  God  that  she  lives  m  a  day  when  the  habit 
of  putting  kings  and  queens  to  death  does  not  exist. 
She  may  read  the  melancholy  tales  of  Anne  Boleyn  and 
the  beautiful  Lady  Jane  Grey,  with  no  fear  that  her 
own  head  will  ever  rest  upon  the  bloody  block. 

Next  to  the  queen,  the  stranger  will  desire  to  see 
the  "  Iron  Duke,"  as  the  hero  of  Waterloo,  the  con- 
queror of  Napoleon,  is  often  called.  The  old  man  is 
now  near  the  grave.  The  form  which  once  was  seen 
amid  the  din  and  carnage  of  battle  is  bending  downward 


KOYALTY  AND  ARISTOCRACY.  139 

to  the  tomb.  "We  met  him,  one  day,  on  horseback, 
riding  slowly  through  the  streets,  observed  and  honored 
by  all.  Little  boys  cried,  "  Here  comes  the  duke,"  and 
uncovered  their  heads ;  and  their  parents,  who  had  seen 
the  old  hero  a  hundred  times,  still  stopped  to  gaze  after 
him  as  he  passed.  No  one  who  had  ever  seen  a  por- 
trait or  statue  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  could  fail  to 
recognize  him.  His  countenance  is  marked  and  pecu- 
liar, and  his  dress  somewhat  singular  for  a  man  of  his 
age.  A  dark  coat  and  white  pants  united  upon  the 
person  of  the  venerable  warrior,  who  sat  upon  a  power- 
ful white  horse,  rendered  him,  as  he  moved  on,  a  con- 
spicuous figure.  He  is  respected  and  beloved  by  all. 
The  English  people  regard  him  as  a  national  deliverer, 
and  statues  and  monuments  to  his  fame  arise  in  every 
part  of  London. 

I  also  saw,  and  became  familiar  with,  the  counte- 
nances of  other  distinguished  persons  in  London,  among 
whom  were  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  the  Earl  of  Chiches- 
ter, Lord  John  Russell,  Lord  Ashley,  with  several  other 
earls,  dukes,  lords,  and  nobles,  with  titles  of  which  I 
know  not  the  meaning,  and  w^hich  I  did  not  care  to 
remember.  They  look,  for  all  the  world,  so  much  like 
other  men,  —  having  noses,  and  mouths,  and  eyes,  and 
hands,  and  feet  just  like  yours  and  mine,  —  that  any 
description  of  them  would  be  tedious.  Go  out  into  the 
street,  and  stop  the  first  man  you  meet ;  dress  him  in  a 
dignified  suit  of  black;  and,  instead  of  calling  him 
John  Smith,  the  cooper,  just  add  a  half  dozen  titles  to 
his  name,  before  and  behind,  and  you  have  a  very  cor- 
rect idea  of  an  English  nobleman.  This  order  of  Eng- 
lish society  live  in  aristocratic  style.  Buckingham  Pal- 
ace is  the  town  residence  of  the  queen,  and  is  a  fine, 
stately  building  in  St.  James's  Park.     Orders  to  visit 


140  EUROPA. 

this  structure  are  given  only  during  the  absence  of  the 
royal  family,  and  I  did  not  enter  it.  The  old  St. 
James's  Palace  is  not  now  used  as  a  royal  residence ; 
but  its  spacious  halls  and  saloons  are  set  apart  for 
levees  and  royal  frolicks,  which  are  held  there  two  or 
three  times  a  year.  The  building  will  hardly  compare 
externally  with  some  of  our  brick  boarding-houses  in 
manufacturing  cities,  and  has  a  deserted  and  dismal 
appearance.  The  apartments  in  which  died  Queen 
Mary  I.,  Queen  Caroline,  and  several  of  the  royal  line, 
and  in  which  were  born  James  the  Pretender,  Charles 
II.,  and  George  IV.,  still  remain. 

Lambeth  Palace,  an  old  castle-like-looking  place,  and 
which  brings  up  the  idea  of  ghosts  and  hobgoblins,  is 
the  town  house  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The 
Duke  of  Wellington  lives  in  the  Apsley  House,  a  sort 
of  genteel-looking  prison  in  Piccadilly,  while  all  over 
the  metropolis  rise  fine  buildings,  in  which  reside  the 
honored  descendants  of  an  illustrious  ancestry,  many 
of  them  beggared  by  their  excesses,  but  still  retaining 
the  appearance  of  splendor. 

The  interior  of  these  palaces,  in  many  cases,  presents 
a  rich  appearance.  By  an  order  kindly  given  us  by  his 
excellency,  Hon,  Abbott  Lawrence,  we  visited  the  town 
house  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  w^ho,  leaving 
the  city  during  the  summer,  left  his  palace  open,  that 
the  wondering  people  from  the  country  might  see  how 
nobles  live.  The  house  is  in  Trafalgar  Square,  in  the 
midst  of  the  din  and  confusion  of  business.  We  were 
admitted  by  stewards,  in  whose  charge  the  place  now  is, 
and  at  once  a  scene  of  great  magnificence  met  the  eye. 
The  floors  of  the  hall,  and  the  splendid  staircase, — 
wide  enough  for  an  army  to  march  up  in  regiments,  — 
were  of  polished  marble.     The  walls  were  of  composite 


ROYALTY  AND  ARISTOCRACY.  141 

marble,  with  rich  Italian  pilasters  and  pillars.  The 
stairs  were  covered  with  a  rich  carpet  of  crimson  vel- 
vet, with  gold  fringes  and  borders  several  yards  wide. 
The  spacious  apartments  were  hung  with  silk,  dam- 
ask, or  beautiful  satin ;  pictures,  mirrors,  and  portraits 
adorned  the  walls,  while  from  stuccoed  and  frescoed 
ceilings  hung  massive  chandeliers,  sparkling  and  glis- 
tening like  gems  of  glass  and  gold.  An  object  of  much 
interest  in  one  of  the  sleeping  apartments  was  a  beau- 
tiful ottoman,  worked  by  the  fair  hands  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Queen  Charlotte. 

The  residence  of  Hon.  Abbott  Lawrence  is  near  that 
of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Mr.  Lawrence  lives  in  a 
style  of  magnificence  corresponding  with  his  own 
wealth,  rather  than  with  the  simple  republican  notions 
of  his  countrymen.  Americans  usually  call  and  pay 
their  respects  to  our  national  representative,  and,  hav- 
ing taken  a  letter  of  introduction  from  a  brother  of  his, 
I  found  my  way,  one  morning,  in  company  with  Rev. 
Mr.  M.,  of  Boston,  to  the  house.  His  office  hour  is 
eleven  o'clock.  We  arrived  ten  minutes  before  the  time, 
and  inquired  for  his  excellency,  or  Mr.  Davis,  the  secre- 
tary, and  were  informed  by  the  servant  in  livery  that 
neither  of  them  could  be  seen  until  ofiice  hour.  "  We 
will  go  in  and  sit  down  in  the  ofiice,"  we  said ;  but  he 
coolly  informed  us  that  we  could  do  no  such  thing. 
It  was  raining  at  a  furious  rate,  —  one  of  those  spite- 
ful, soon-over  showers  peculiar  to  London,  —  and  we 
said,  "We  will  stand  in  the  hall  until  the  rain  abates, 
or  the  ofiice  is  open ;  "  but  the  servant  assured  us  that 
no  provision  was  made  for  standing  in  the  hall,  and  so 
we  went  out  to  pace  Piccadilly  in  the  driving  rain. 
However  wet  and  cold  a  reception  we  may  have  re- 
ceived, we  were  assured  that  Mr.  Lawrence  meets  the 


142  EUEOPA. 

American  in  London  with  the  most  cordial  welcome, 
and  furnishes  him  with  every  facility  for  becoming 
acquainted  with  objects  of  interest  in  the  city.  He  is 
exceedingly  popular,  and  maintains  a  state  more  nearly 
approaching  that  of  English  aristocrats  than  any  man 
we  have  ever  had  at  the  court  of  that  country.  This 
may  be  wise  and  proper,  but  it  will  place  his  suc- 
cessor in  a  painful  position,  if  his  pocket  should  not 
be  as  deep,  or  his  purse  as  long,  as  that  of  our  present 
minister. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE  AND  HAMPTON  COURT.  143 


X. 

WINDSOR  CASTLE  AND  HAMPTON  COURT. 

A  RAILROAD  ride  of  twenty-two  miles  brings  us  to 
"Windsor  Castle,  the  country  residence  of  the  royal 
family.  For  eight  centuries  the  monarchs  of  England 
have  resorted  to  this  proud  old  place,  and  here  have 
transpired  scenes  which  never  can  be  buried  up.  While 
her  majesty  is  visiting  at  Windsor,  the  national  flag  is 
kept  flying  continually  from  the  summit  of  the  Round 
Tower,  and  can  be  seen  for  many  miles.  When-  she 
returns  to  London,  the  flag  is  taken  down  and  hoisted 
on  Buckingham  Palace.  The  day  which  I  spent  at  the 
castle  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  my  w^hole  stay 
in  England,  Such  a  spot  is  a  grand  place  to  commune 
with  the  old  feudal  past ;  to  bring  back  to  one's  mind 
the  knights  of  olden  time,  and  gather  them  around  the 
banquet.  We  passed  in  rapid  succession  through  the 
various  apartments,  known  as  the  audience  room,  the 
Vandyke  room,  the  drawing  room,  the  anterooms,  the 
Waterloo  chamber,  the  presence  chamber,  the  guard 
chamber,  all  hung  with  fine  paintings,  by  masters  who 
have  long  since  laid  down  the  pencil,  and  have  become 
themselves  of  less  consequence  than  the  canvas  on 
which  their  time  was  employed. 

Within  the  walls  of  the  castle  is  St.  George's  Chapel, 
a  fine  church,  which  strikes  the  visitor  with  solemn 
awe  as  he  enters  it.  The  walls  are  hung  with  banners, 
and  engraven  with  armorial   bearings.     The  stalls  in 


144  EUROPA. 

the  choir  are  of  a  rich  carved  work,  bearing  the  arms 
of  the  nobles  who  occupy  them.  A  rich,  deep-toned 
organ,  at  morning  and  evening,  pours  out  a  delightful 
strain  of  delicious  music,  and  a  "  dim  religious  light " 
struggling  through  the  stained  Gothic  windows,  lends  a 
solemn  and  awful  feeling  to  every  stranger.  In  a  neat 
chapel  is  the  cenotaph,  erected  to  the  memory  of  the 
Princess  Charlotte  of  Saxe  Coburg.  It  is  an  exquisite 
work,  and  one  can  hardly  stand  before  the  dumb,  dead, 
cold  marble  without  tears.  It  represents  the  princess 
lying  in  state  upon  a  bier.  At  each  corner  of  her 
death  couch  is  the  bowed  form  of  a  weeping  attendant, 
while  over  all  bends  an  angel  holding  the  living  child, 
in  giving  birth  to  which  the  beautiful  princess  passed 
away  from  earth. 

The  grounds  around  Windsor  Castle  are  laid  out 
with  great  beauty,  and  it  is  said  that  the  queen  can 
ride  through  them,  thirty  miles,  winding  backward  and 
forward,  without  crossing  her  ovv^n  track  in  any  single 
instance.  The  Round  Tower  is  nearly  three  hundred 
feet  high,  and  from  it,  twelve  counties  can  be  seen 
spread  out  in  fertile  beauty.  All  around  "Windsor  are 
places  of  interest.  At  a  little  distance  Eton  College 
rears  its  front;  Virginia  water,  with  its  beautiful  ac- 
companiments, is  on  the  other  side ;  while,  all  around, 
parks,  groves,  lakes,  and  ledges  add  beauty  to  the 
country,  and  render  the  place  one  of  surpassing  interest 
even  to  royalty  itself 

Hampton  Court  Palace  was  built  by  Cardinal  Wol- 
sey,  and  given  to  Henry  VIII.  It  is  about  twelve 
miles  from  London,  and  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
spots  in  the  kingdom.  Within  its  walls  more  plans 
of  shame,  crime,  and  blood  have  been  formed  than  in 
any   other  building   in   England.      There,  fallen  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE  AND   HAMPTON   COURT.  145 

licentious  ecclesiastics  have  reveled  with  lewd  and  dis- 
sipated kings  and  queens.  There  scenes  of  villainy 
have  originated  which  have  made  the  nation  tremble. 
Kings  have  been  born,  married  and  died  there,  and  the 
very  walls  seem  to  tremble  with  the  records  which  they 
bear.  The  ride  from  London  to  Hampton  is  very  fine, 
and  the  traveler  is  delighted  with  all  he  sees.  On  the 
way  is  the  house  of  Alexander  Pope,  in  which  he  lived 
and  poetized ;  in  the  distance  is  seen  the  country  resi- 
dence of  Lord  John  Russell ;  on  the  other  side  is  the 
famous  Strawberry  Hill  and  villa  ;  while  the  whole 
country  is  rich  and  varied  as  nature  and  art  can  make 
it.  In  the  garden  of  this  palace  is  the  great  grape 
vine,  the  largest  in  the  world.  It  is  a  black  Hamburg 
grape  ;  the  main  vine  is  thirty  inches  in  circumference, 
and  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  long,  and  bears  annually 
about  twenty-five  hundred  bunches  of  delicious  fruit, 
weighing  somewhat  over  half  a  tun.  The  garden  and 
parks  are  laid  out  with  much  taste,  and  the  whole  is  a 
national  monument  which  costs  an  immense  sum  to 
keep  it  in  repair.  It  is  not  used  by  the  royal  family, 
but  is  made  the  residence  of  privileged  nurses  and 
servants  of  the  old  nobles.  It  has  a  mournful  appear- 
ance, and  one  can  hardly  fail  to  recall  the  scenes  which 
have  transpired  here,  and  which  have  made  the  name 
of  Cardinal  Wolsey  and  Hampton  Court  Palace  famous 
throughout  the  world. 

Passing  along  Fleet  Street  one  day,  I  saw  in  large 
capitals,  on  a  rude,  old-fashioned,  crowxled  building, 
"  This  was  the  palace  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  and  Henry 
VIII. ;  "  and  on  entering,  I  found  it  occupied  by  a 
barber,  who  requested  me  to  sit  down  and  be  shaved  in 
a  chair  once  owned  by  the  cardinal.  While  he  was 
operating,  I  cast  my  eyes  around,  and  saw  the  walls 
19  M 


146  EUROPA. 

and  ceiling  all  bearing  evidence  of  former  opulence  and 
splendor  ;  and  when  I  went  away,  I  found  I  was  obliged 
to  pay  an  extra  sixpence  for  having  sat  in  the  cardinal's 
chair.  When  I  remonstrated,  the  fellow  very  coolly 
asked  me  if  I  did  not  come  in  to  be  shaved.  His  im- 
pudence was  so  humorous,  that  I  could  not  resist  it ; 
and  I  paid  him  the  extra  sixpence,  telling  him  it  was 
the  first  time  I  was  ever  shaved  with  a  chair.  I  am 
willing  to  be  imposed  upon  sometimes,  if  it  is  done 
with  real  wit  and  genuine  good  nature,  and  so  resolved 
to  call  on  the  barber  again.  I  refused  to  sit  down  in 
the  cardinal's  chair,  and  another  was  provided.  While 
my  hair  was  being  dressed,  he  commenced  conversation. 

"  You  are  from  America,  sir." 

"  Yes." 

"  A  very  clever  people  them,  sir." 

"  Yes." 

"  Californy  is  close  by  you,  sir." 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  ye  bring  your  better  half  over,  sir  %  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  your  business  good  now,  sir"?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  ye  are  a  pretty  clever  man  at  making  money, 
sir?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  how  do  ye  make  it,  sir  1  " 

I  thought  a  moment,  and  replied,  — 

"By  keeping  clear  of  barbers,  sir." 

I  preserved  my  gravity,  and  he  commenced  a  low 
whistle,  at  the  same  time  scrubbing  and  scraping  my 
head,  pulling  my  hair,  and  pouring  on  oil  until  it  ran 
down  into  my  eyes,  when  all  at  once  he  commenced 
again, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE  AND  HAMPTON  COURT.     147 

"  You  are  growing  bald,  sir  —  losing  your  hair  very 
fast,  sir." 

"Ah!  O!"  said  I,  rather  astonished  at  this  infor- 
mation. 

"  I  can  sell  you  some  oil  —  Cardinal  Wolsey  oil  — 
which  will  bring  it  all  out  again,  sir." 

I  told  him  that  I  had  no  occasion  for  his  oil,  and 
requested  him  to  stop  rubbing  my  head,  lest  his  declara- 
tion should  soon  prove  too  true.  I  arose  from  the  chair, 
supposing  that  I  had  outwitted  the  barber,  and  asked 
him  his  charge. 

"  Two  shillings,  sir,"  (equal  to  fifty  cents.) 

"  How  is  that  ]  "  I  asked. 

"  Why,"  replied  he  coolly,  "  sixpence  for  shaving, 
and  one  and  sixpence  for  the  oil." 

"Oil!  oil!"  said  I;  "what  oil T' 

"  Why,  the  oil  which  the  lad  has  wrapped  up  in  a 
bill,  and  put  in  your  coat,  sir." 

And,  sure  enough,  a  bottle  of  oil  was  found  in  my 
pocket ;  and,  as  I  unrolled  and  examined  it,  the  impu- 
dent fellow  stood  by,  exclaiming,  "  I  never  take  back 
what  I  sell ;  no,  I  never  do." 

It  was  no  use ;  and  I  paid  the  charge,  used  the  oil, 
and  the  bottle  remaineth  to  remind  me  occasionally 
how  keenly  an  Irish  barber  outwitted  the  Yankee  trav- 
eler, and  how  I  was  shaved  four  times  in  London  — 
twice  with  a  razor,  once  with  a  chair,  and  once  with  a 
bottle  of  oil. 


148  EUROPA. 


XI. 

PARLIAMENT  —  TOWER  —  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

The  old  Houses  of  Parliament  were  consumed  in 
1834,  and  the  new  Houses  now  in  process  of  erection 
will  doubtless  be  the  finest  specimens  of  Gothic  archi- 
tecture in  the  world,  and  will  cover  an  area  of  nine 
acres.  The  House  of  Commons  is  not  yet  complete ; 
the  House  of  Lords  is  finished,  and  in  use.  Through 
the  kindness  of  an  English  friend,  I  obtained  admits 
tance  to  the  House  of  Lords  while  that  august  body 
was  in  session.  The  room  is  ninety  feet  long,  forty-five 
feet  wide,  and  forty  feet  high.  At  the  end  opposite  the 
entrance  is  the  throne  —  a  sort  of  a  chair,  which  is  oc- 
cupied by  the  queen  on  state  occasions.  On  the  right 
is  a  chair  for  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  on  the  left  one 
for  Prince  Albert.  Immediately  in  front  and  below 
the  throne  is  the  woolsack,  or  the  seat  of  the  lord 
chancellor,  the  presiding  officer.  The  efiect,  on  enter- 
ing the  house,  is  wonderful.  The  stained  glass  win- 
dows ;  the  light,  airy,  trellised,  and  carved  work ;  the 
abundance  of  gilt  and  gold,  —  is,  for  a  while,  painfully 
gorgeous.  On  the  day  of  my  visit,  the  house  was  filled 
with  a  gay  and  brilliant  assemblage ;  and  I  think  I 
never  entered  a  legislative  assembly  where  the  impres- 
sion produced  was  more  profound.  A  discussion  was 
in  progress  on  the  ecclesiastical  title  bill,  and  in  it  Lord 
Beaumont,  Viscount  Canning,  the  Duke  of  "Wellington, 
the  Duke  of  Argyle,  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  and  the 


PARLIAMENT  — TOWER  — WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.      149 

Marquis  of  Lansdowne  engaged.  The  debate  was  dull 
enough,  though  the  subject  was  one  of  exciting  interest. 
The  remarks  were  generally  commonplace,  and  uttered 
by  each  speaker  as  if  he  cared  little  whether  they  were 
heard  and  heeded  or  not.  I  remember  only  what  w^ 
said  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  expressed  his 
fear  that  the  designs  of  Popery  were  not  as  clearly  un- 
derstood and  guarded  against  as  they  should  be.  He 
feared  the  tyrant  at  Rome  more  than  all  the  armies  of 
Europe — the  ingenuity  and  subtlety  of  the  Jesuit  more 
than  the  roar  of  battle.  I  do  not  pretend  to  give  his 
words ;  but  they  formed  a  noble  sentence,  and  were 
nobly  uttered.  I  should  hardly  think  this  body  would 
compare  favorably,  for  intellect  and  grasp  of  thought, 
with  that  branch  of  our  own  federal  government  which 
corresponds  with  it  —  the  Senate. 

The  Commons  meet  in  a  dull,  dingy  hall,  their  house, 
as  yet,  being  unfinished.  This  body  is  composed  of 
the  younger  sons  of  the  nobles,  respectable  tradesmen, 
and  agricultors,  and  resembles  our  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. I  obtained  admittance  on  two  occasions. 
The  members  were  noisy,  boisterous,  sitting  with  their 
hats  on,  the  whole  group  forming  as  admirable  a  speci- 
men of  a  bear  garden  as  can  be  found.  The  debates 
were  more  exciting,  and  the  whole  scene  more  tumultu- 
ous, than  that  witnessed  in  the  House  of  Lords.  On 
one  occasion,  the  ecclesiastical  bill  was  up ;  and  on  the 
other,  a  bill  for  the  supply  of  the  metropolis  with  water 
was  under  discussion,  the  most  prominent  speaker,  on 
the  first  occasion,  being  one  Murphy,  an  Irishman,  and 
on  the  second.  Lord  John  Russell.  1  cannot  say  that 
my  opinion  of  the  ability  of  English  legislators  was  at 
all  increased  by  these  visits.  In  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, two  or  three  members  who  rose  to  speak  were 


M 


* 


150  EUKOPA. 

faiiiy  laiiglied  down,  one  half  the  house  settmg  up  a 
mock  laugh  the  moment  they  commenced,  and  continu- 
ing until,  unable  to  be  understood  in  a  single  sentence, 
they  sat  down  in  confusion.  For  decorum,  ability,  elo- 
(Juence,  and  real  power,  I  think  our  ovm  legislative 
bodies  would  compare  favorably  with  those  two  assem- 
blies, from  which  goes  out  an  influence  which  reaches 
to  the  ends  of  the  world.  Our  statesmen  are  destitute 
of  hjo^h-soundinof  titles  and  roval  honors  :  but  illustri- 
ous  names  are  known  m  our  halls  of  Congress,  which, 
in  a  single  session,  would  stand  among  the  highest  in 
the  Parliament  of  England. 

-  Intimatelv  connected  with  the  nobility  of  Eno'land  is 
the  famous  old  Tower  of  London.  More  interest  gath- 
ers around  that  pile  of  buildings  than  around  Victoria's 
throne ;  and  one  would  as  soon  go  to  Eome,  and  neg- 
lect to  enter  St.  Peter's,  as  to  visit  London,  and  fail  to 
see  the  Tower.  It  was  founded  by  AYilliam  the  Con- 
queror ;  and  an  old  legend  declares,  probably  without 
truth,  that  the  mortar  was  tempered  with  the  blood  of 
beasts.  By  his  successors  it  has  been  enlarged  and  im- 
proved, and,  at  times,  occupied  —  now  as  a  palace,  then 
as  a  prison.  As  we  passed  through  the  gloomy  gate- 
way, into  the  place  of  blood,  a  guide  met  us,  wearing 
a  black  hat,  with  a  crown  unusually  low%  and  a  brim 
unusually  wide,  around  which  ribins  of  several  colors 
were  tied,  a  coat  of  red,  ornamented  with  gold  lace, 
making  the  man  a  very  forbidding  and  grotesque-look- 
ing personage.  The  buildings  cover  an  irregular  area 
of  thirteen  acres,  and  were  formerly  surrounded  by  a 
ditch,  from  which  the  water  is  now  drawn,  and  in 
which  a  company  of  soldiers  were  parading.  Twice  I 
wandered  through  this  gloomy  edifice  —  once  with  my 
traveling  companions,  and  once  alone.     With  a  chill 


PARLIAMENT  —  TOWER  —  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.      151 

of  honor,  1  wandered  from  armory  to  armory,  hall  to 
hall,  tower  to  tower. 

It  was  here  that  Sir  Thomas  More  came  to  his  terri- 
ble end,  his  head  having  been  struck  off  with  an  ax, 
while  his  daughter  clung  around  his  neck  with  all  the 
heroism  of  childlike  devotion.  Here  William  Wallace 
was  confined  after  his  unfortunate  attempt  to  give  lib- 
erty to  Scotland,  and  from  here  he  was  dragged  at  a 
horse's  tail  to  Smithfield,  and  barbarously  murdered. 
Here  Henry  VI.  was  assassinated  —  the  object  of  foul 
conspiracies,  the  victim  of  unsatisfiable  ambition.  Here 
the  young  princes  were  smothered  by  the  order  of  Richard 
III.,  in  all  the  helplessness  of  childhood ;  and  here  the 
murderer  afterwards  met  the  fate  he  so  richly  deser^^ed. 
Here  Bishop  Fisher  was  executed,  to  satisfy  the  ma- 
lignity of  a  wicked  monarch  whose  foolish  pretensions 
he  refused  to  acknowledge.  Here  Anne  BolejTi  met 
her  fate,  protesting  that  her  only  crime  was  in  ha\ing 
lost  the  love  of  her  husband,  who,  three  days  after  her 
head  was  struck  off,  led  the  beautiful  Jane  Seymour  to 
the  unhallowed  altar.  Here  the  Countess  of  Salisbury, 
accused  of  treason,  ran  around  the  fatal  block,  the  exe- 
cutioner striking  at  her  head  at  every  step,  until  she 
fell  covered  with  wounds.  Here  Lady  Jane  Grey,  the 
victim  of  the  weak  am.bition  of  her  friends,  ha"\'ing  suf- 
fered herself  to  be  crowned,  was  confined,  tried,  and 
executed,  flere  Arabella  Stuart  was  confined,  until, 
her  health  departed,  her  reason  fled,  and  covered  with 
disease,  she  died  a  lunatic.  Here  the  gifted  Earl  of 
Strafford  was  confijied  and  put  to  death  under  the  eye 
of  Cromwell,  soon  followed  to  the  block  by  Laud,  the 
corrupt  ecclesiastic  and  unprincipled  statesman.  Time 
will  not  allow  me  to  dwell  upon  the  scenes  of  horror 
which  have  here  been  witnessed.     For  centuiies,  the 


152  EUROPA. 

block  and  the  rack  have  been  clomg  then*  work ;  and 
hundreds  daily  visit  the  bloody  apartments,  to  wonder 
at  the  cruelty  of  man,  and  to  thank  God  that  the  day 
of  darkness  has  passed,  never  to  return.  At  times, 
the  old  walls  have  rung  wdth  shouts  of  joy,  and  anon 
echoed  with  groans  of  anguish.  Now,  the  marriage  fes- 
tival has  been  held  here  ;  and  anon,  the  bride  is  brought 
to  the  block,  and  her  headless  trunk  and  trunkless  head 
roll  over  together,  and  are  borne  away  to  a  dishonored 
grave. 

In  the  Tower  are  kept  the  crown  jewels,  which  are 
objects  of  much  interest  to  those  who  are  unaccustomed 
to  the  sight  of  such  baubles.  In  this  collection  are 
crowns  which  have  been  worn  by  Charles  II.  and  various 
other  monarchs  ;  scepters  which  have  been  used  under 
different  reigns  ;  the  royal  spurs  of  gold  worn  at  the 
coronations ;  the  bracelets  and  other  jewels  worn  by 
the  queen  on  state  occasions ;  the  golden  swords  of 
mercy  and  justice  ;  the  baptismal  stand  from  which  the 
royal  babies  are  sprinkled ;  the  sacramental  service 
used  at  coronations ;  with  many  other  baubles,  the  use 
of  which  I  did  not  know.  The  object  of  all  others  in 
which  I  was  most  interested  was  the  new  crown  made 
for  Victoria,  and  worn  at  her  coronation.  It  is  a  sort 
of  baby  cap,  of  purple  velvet,  "  enclosed  by  silver 
hoops,  covered  with  diamonds.  Surmounting  these 
hoops  is  a  ball,  also  adorned  with  small  diamonds, 
bearing  a  cross  formed  of  brilliants,  in  the  center  of 
which  is  a  unique  sapphire.  In  the  front  of  this  cro"wn 
is  the  heart-formed  ruby  stated  to  have  been  worn  by 
Edward  the  Black  Prince."  What  these  toys  cost,  and 
at  what  they  are  valued,  I  could  form  no  estimate,  nor 
could  the  good  old  lady,  who,  with  a  consequential  air, 
admitted  us  into  the  room,  inform  me. 


PARLIAMENT  — TOWER  — WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.       153 

On  one  occasion,  a  bold  attempt  was  made  to  steal 
these  crown  jewels,  and  would  have  succeeded  but  for 
the  bravery  of  the  old  man  who  at  that  thne  had  them 
in  his  care.  The  robber,  however,  escaped  without 
punishment,  and  afterwards  became  a  man  of  eminence 
and  honor. 

These  visits  to  the  Tower  made  a  deep  and  lasting 
impression.  I  cannot  notv  forget  those  tokens  and 
evidences  of  the  past ;  and  they  often  rise  before  me, 
spoiling  some  fair  vision,  and  dissipating  some  dream 
of  good.  The  block,  the  ax,  the  rack,  the  chain, 
remain,  while  the  tyrant  and  the  victim  have  passed 
away.  Long  will  the  Tower  stand.  The  history  of 
England  for  past  centuries  is  written  there,  and  read 
there  by  hundreds  every  day.  It  is  a  dark  history, 
such  as  one  would  read  at  midnight,  and  over  which, 
as  yet,  tears  enough  have  not  been  shed  to  blot  it  out. 
What  St.  Angelo  is  to  E-ome,  the  Tower  is  to  London. 

Having  glanced  at  the  nobility  of  England,  it  is 
proper  that  we  should  visit  the  place  where  their  ashes 
lie,  and  where  their  dead  repose.  Westminster  Abbey 
needs  no  description.  It  has  stood  for  centuries,  one 
of  the  greatest  monuments  of  the  old  world.  Once 
monks  and  friars  chanted  solemn  services  beneath  its 
arches  ;  it  is  now  the  tomb  of  dead  kings  and  a  per- 
ished nobility.  Every  day  a  service  is  performed  by 
the  priests  of  the  reformed  religion,  and  every  night 
the  moon  looks  through  the  old  windows  upon  the 
shadows  of  the  mighty  past.  There  all  the  monarchs 
of  England  are  crowned  in  an  old  chair,  which  none 
of  us  would  keep  in  our  houses,  and  which,  for  the 
purpose  of  coronation,  is  covered  with  velvet.  Here 
the  diadem  was  placed  upon  the  head  of  Victoria,  and 
from  these  walls  went  out  the  glad  shout  of  the  pop- 
20 


154  EUROPA. 

ulace.  I  felt  an  indescribable  awe  creeping  over  me 
as  I  stood  in  the  Poets'  Corner,  and  read  the  names 
of  Jonson,  Spenser,  Milton,  Gray,  Dryden,  Thomson, 
Southey,  Shakspeare,  Addison,  and  a  host  of  others  ; 
or  wandered  down  the  nave,  or  across  the  transept,  into 
the  chapels  of  Henry  VII.  and  the  others ;  into  the 
cold  cloisters  where  monks  once  sat,  where  the  dead 
now  live  in  monuments  and  inscriptions  of  during 
might.  Here  are  kings  who  w^ent  down  from  thrones 
and  from  blocks  ;  generals  who  fell  on  battle  fields,  or 
in  the  loved  retreats  of  home ;  poets  who  have  won 
immortal  renown ;  men  of  wealth,  fashion,  skill,  and 
piety ;  all,  all,  in  one  common  sepulcher,  repose  in  the 
embrace  of  death.  Monuments  of  all  forms,  and  cov- 
ered with  all  kinds  of  inscriptions,  true  and  false  ; 
statues,  busts,  blocks,  and  slabs,  some  as  old  as  the 
venerable  pile  itself,  and  some  of  yesterday,  uttering 
the  mortality  of  the  great,  and  wise,  and  good ;  — 

"  Marble  monumerrts  are  here  displayed, 
Thronging  the  walls  ;  and  on  the  floor  beneath 
Sepulchral  stones  appear,  with  emblems  graven, 
And  foot-worn  epitaphs ;  and  some  with  small 
And  shining  effigies  of  brass  inlaid. 
The  tribute  by  those  various  records  claimed 
Without  reluctance  do  we  pay  —  and  read 
The  obituary  chronicle  of  birth, 
Office,  alliance,  and  promotion  —  all 
Ending  in  dust." 

I  found  opportunity,  when  w^eary  of  the  noise,  strife, 
and  confusion  of  the  great  city,  to  retire,  as  I  did  on 
several  occasions,  to  muse  on  man,  his  pomp,  pride,  and 
end.  It  did  my  heart  good  to  sit  down  in  that  old 
vaulted  place,  or  to  walk  along  the  damp  cloisters,  or 
look  through  into  the  chapels,  and   hold  communion 


PARLIAMENT  — TOWER  — WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.   155 

with  the  dead  past.  In  St.  Paul's,  and  in  the  churches 
of  London,  the  English  service,  drawled  out,  seemed  to 
me  to  be  most  miserable  mockery.  But  in  the  Abbey, 
it  filled  my  soul  with  unutterable  solemnity.  It  sound- 
ed so  much  like  death,  and  death  as  it  was  there,  in 
that  old  cathedral,  that  its  efiect  was  irresistible. 

And  methinks  the  coronation  of  the  monarchs  of 
England  in  that  venerated  edifice  would  have  some- 
thing of  mournfulness  about  it.  When  from  the 
tower  and  the  temple,  across  the  parks  and  down  the 
broad  ways,  comes  the  mighty  tide,  moving  into  the 
Abbey  and  filling  it  full,  there  must  be  heard  the  voices 
of  the  past  swelling  out  from  rich  sarcophagus  and 
stately  tomb,  to  speak  to  that  crowned  one  of  dust  and 
ashes.  There  must  be,  with  all  the  gayety,  some  mourn- 
ful association  connected  with  that  glad  service,  which 
testifies  to  the  surging  masses  that  they  have  come  to 
the  house  of  death,  as  well  as  to  the  temple  of  life. 
The  ringing  bells,  thundering  cannon,  harmonious  an- 
thems, shouting  crowds,  and  brilliant  ceremonies  can- 
not drive  away  the  shades  of  the  dim  old  arches,  as 
they  seem  to  bend,  in  worship  or  mockery,  over  the  life 
which  will  soon  be  closed  in  death. 

Were  I  about  to  lay  aside  my  manhood  and  become 
a  monk,  or  a  friar,  and  give  myself  up  to  the  mistaken 
notions  of  a  religious  life,  and  could  I  choose  the  spot 
where  my  self-imposed  seclusion  should  be  passed,  I 
would  select  that  emblem  of  eternity,  which  stands 
alone,  a  sepulcher  amidst  the  tumultuous  beatings  of 
life,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  great  metropolis  —  West- 
minster Abbey. 


156  EUKOPA. 


XII. 

MEN  AND  THINGS. 

The  display  made  by  the  nobles  of  England  on 
public  occasions  is  very  great,  and  even  on  ordinary 
occasions  is  greater  than  that  of  any  other  nation  which 
I  have  visited.  On  any  bright,  beautiful  afternoon, 
during  the  past  summer,  a  stranger  might  have  been 
amused  for  hours  in  watching  the  carriages  of  the 
nobles  as  they  drove  in  and  out  of  Hyde  Park.  I  stood 
at  the  gate  one  day,  and  saw  them  rolling  out  at  the 
rate  of  six  hundred  an  hour ;  and  seldom  has  any  mili- 
tary display  been  of  more  interest.  There  seemed  a 
wealth  and  dignity  to  all  this  unlike  any  such  exhibi- 
tion I  had  ever  seen.  The  carriages  were  drawn  by  two 
or  four  horses,  beautifully  harnessed,  while  the  coach- 
man, with  his  powdered  wig,  sitting  on  the  box,  and  the 
footmen,  with  their  gay  red  velvet  breeches  and  blue 
coats,  standing  behind,  seemed  as  proud  as  their  mas- 
ters who  rode  within.  Sometimes  these  carriages  are 
preceded  by  outriders  on  horseback,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  have  I  noticed  some  five  or  six  men  in  attend- 
ance upon  one  lady.  In  more  than  one  instance  I 
noticed  that  the  only  occupant  of  the  carriage  was  a 
pet  dog,  who  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sport  finely.  In  such 
cases,  I  presume  the  family  did  not  wish  to  ride,  and 
sent  out  their  servants  and  equipage  to  keep  up  the 
dignity  of  the  parade; 

The  English  ladies,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  though  I  do 


MEN  AND    THINGS.  157 

not  pretend  to  be  a  judge,  are  less  beautiful  than  our 
OAvn.  They  accustom  themselves  to  out-of-door  exer- 
cise, and  the  middle  and  lower  classes  are  far  less 
attractive  than  the  same  classes  here.  But  while  this 
may  be  the  fact,  English  women  are  generally  far  more 
capable  than  our  own.  The  early  education  of  Ameri- 
can ladies  unfits  them  for  almost  all  the  duties  and 
pursuits  of  life.  They  grow  up  greenhouse  plants, 
that  too  often  wither  at  the  least  exposure.  They 
cannot  go  a  mile  in  stage  or  rail  car  without  a  male 
attendant,  and  shrink  back  from  the  least  responsibility 
with  horror  The  English  women,  of  the  highest  and 
lowest  rank,  find  pleasure  in  an  opposite  course,  and  in 
some  cases  aspire  to  duties  belonging  to  the  other  sex. 

I  was  disappointed  in  Englishmen  to  some  extent. 
They  were  not  so  portly,  on  the  whole,  as  I  supposed  ; 
and  while  there  w^ere  seen  few  tall,  lean,  cadaverous 
men,  as  among  us,  there  were  less  of  the  aldermanic 
size  than  I  expected  to  find.  The  English  people  give 
themselves  up  to  enjoyment  ta  a  much  greater  degree 
than  we  do.  Here,  it  is  all  "  get,  get ;  "  but  there,  the 
desire  to  enjoy  prevails.  Consequently  the  signs  of 
health  are  more  often  seen,  and  each  cheek  bears  the 
im^Dress  of  generous  living. 

The  English,  less  frequently  than  our  people,  wear 
false  hair,  when  that  which  nature  gave  them  has  de- 
parted. The  old  man  does  not  cover  his  bald  pate  and 
his  snowy  locks  with  the  scalp  of  a  dead  man,  nor 
does  the  aged  woman  pin  fine  curls  under  her  neat 
cap,  to  cover  a  stray  lock,  which,  in  accordance  with 
a  natural  law,  has  become  bleached  by  time. 

Men  and  women  seem  to  believe  that  a  hoary  head 
is  a  crown  of  honor,  and  act  accordingly.  But  among 
us,  the  venerable  old  man  will  often  destroy  his  white 

N 


158  EUROPA. 

locks  by  covering  his  head  with  a  protection  which 
nature  put  upon  the  cranium  of  a  savage  or  an  idiot. 
I  recall  the  countenance  of  a  good  man  who  once  lived 
and  moved  among  us,  whose  hoary  head  I  loved  to 
gaze  upon,  as  the  white  locks  floated  in  the  breeze. 
But  one  day,  he  came  forth  with  his  wig,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  all,  and  I  have  missed  that  venerable  head 
from  that  day  to  this. 

The  wigs  worn  in  England  are  used  irrespective  of 
baldness.  I  was  not  a  little  amused,  one  day,  in  wan- 
dering about  the  courts  of  London,  to  find  the  lawyers 
and  judges  all  buried  up  in  monstrous  gray  wigs  and 
black  robes.  Some  of  them  Avere  very  young  men,  and 
I  had  seen  them  elsewhere  with  fine  locks  and  beauti- 
ful hair  ;  but  here,  each  had  on  the  gray  powdered  wig, 
which  rolled  down  upon  his  shoulders.  From  beneath 
this  useless  appendage  a  pair  of  keen  eyes  looked  forth, 
and  two  thirds  of  the  members  of  the  bar  looked  more 
like  monkeys  than  human  beings.  I  saw  Talfourd  thus 
arrayed,  and  I  hardly  think  I  shall  want  to  read 
another  verse  of  his,  until  the  comical  look  which  he 
had  on  is  effaced  from  my  memory. 

The  coachmen  of  fine  families,  though  mere  boys,  are 
often  decorated  in  this  way ;  and  the  rich  adornment  of 
nature  is  buried  up  with  the  long,  tangled,  powdered, 
curled,  and  uncomely  flax  of  the  show  case. 

The  dress  of  English  gentlemen  is  generally  plain, 
and  less  Frenchified  than  that  of  Americans.  The  cut 
of  an  English  coat,  and  the  trim  of  an  English  hat,  are 
any  thing  but  pleasing  ;  and  few  who  purchase  in  Lon- 
don use  them  when  they  return.  The  English  ladies 
dress,  I  should  judge,  more  richly  and  less  gaudily  than 
the  same  class  and  rank  in  our  country.  No  English 
woman  feels  that  she  is  compelled  by  fashion  to  sweep 


MEN  AND   THINGS.  159 

the  sidewalks  with  her  dress,  or  wear  thin  shoes  amid 
the  peltings  of  a  storm.  Than  among  us  there  is  less 
of  that  mock  modesty  which  blushes  at  a  dress  which 
does  not  cover  the  ankle,  boot,  and  foot,  and  drag 
through  the  mud  and  water  —  the  frequent  cause  of 
disease  and  death.  There  is  less  of  that  miserable  fash- 
ion which  compels  a  lady  to  wear  a  shoe  through  which 
the  damp  chill  and  the  wet  and  cold  find  their  way  as 
soon  as  the  foot  is  placed  upon  the  ground.  Often 
have  I  seen  ladies  crossing  the  muddy  streets  of  Lon- 
don with  clogs,  or  wire  sandals,  which  keep  the  foot 
from  a  contact  with  the  mud,  and  save  the  wearer  from 
a  needless  exposure. 

While  there  may  be  less  of  what  often  passes  for 
politeness  among  the  English  than  among  the  French, 
there  is  far  more  genial  hospitality  among  the  former 
than  among  the  latter  people.  They  do  you  a  kindness 
with  a  hearty  good  will,  which  makes  you  feel  its  hon- 
esty, and  enables  you  to  appreciate  its  worth.  I  am 
still  indebted  to  several  English  friends,  who  received 
me  with  a  cordiality  which  I  shall  long  remember. 

Were  I  to  hazard  an  opinion,  I  should  say  there  was 
more  domestic  bliss  and  well-ordered  family  government 
than  among  us.  The  training  of  youth  is  not  left  so 
much  to  the  teacher  of  the  day  or  Sunday  school,  but 
the  mind  and  heart  of  the  parent  come  more  directly 
into  contact  with  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  child.  Be- 
sides, English  people  are  much  at  home,  and  have  more 
sources  of  pleasure  around  their  own  firesides,  than  have 
we.  I  think  while  on  the  continent  I  met  more  Ameri- 
can than  English  travelers.  We  love  to  roam,  and  home 
loses  its  attractions.  We  love  progress  and  change,  and 
often  the  fire  on  the  hearthstone  is  put  out.  But  the 
Englishman  feels  that  his  own  country  is  the  best  on 


160  EUEOPA. 

earth.  Paris,  Rome,  Naples,  have  far  less  attractions 
than  busy,  crowded  London.  The  absence  of  any  gen- 
eral system  of  education  compels  more  extensive  home 
education,  and  all  these  causes  combined  furnish  a 
larger  number  of  well-regulated  families.  Boys  and 
girls,  when  they  enter  their  teens,  do  not  become  older 
and  wiser,  and  of  more  consequence,  than  their  par- 
ents, and  hence  a  large  amount  of  crime  and  sorrow, 
which  is  the  usual  attendant  upon  an  early  abandon- 
ment of  parental  authority,  is  avoided.  Children  seem 
to  grow  up  with  more  fixed  and  settled  habits  of 
thought  and  action  ;  and,  when  they  go  forth  from  the 
parental  roof,  they  go  with  opinions  formed,  and  princi- 
ples of  action  decided  upon.  Of  course,  to  all  these 
remarks  there  are  some  exceptions ;  and  yet  I  think 
you  find  in  England  more  correct  and  valuable  views 
of  the  family  relation,  and  a  more  just  appreciation  of 
its  blessings. 


v^, 


PRISONS  — KAGGED   SCHOOLS  — GIN  PALACES.         161 


XIII. 

PRISONS  — RAGGED   SCHOOLS  — GIN  PALACES. 

My  desire,  in  visiting  London,  was  not  merely  to  see 
the  Crystal  Palace,  the  great  Cathedral,  and  the  royal 
family.  I  wished  to  find  my  way  into  those  scenes  of 
wo  which  have  been  pictured  before  us  in  the  reports 
of  benevolent  societies  and  the  statistics  of  crime.  And 
this  object  I  found  it  no  way  difficult  to  accomplish.  I 
was  enabled  to  obtain  much  valuable  information  from 
police  officers,  of  whom  there  are  about  five  thousand, 
divided  into  eighteen  companies,  each  wearing  a  neat 
uniform,  lettered  and  numbered  so  that  he  can  be  recog- 
nized without  difficulty.  These  policemen  take  great 
pleasure  in  giving  information  and  furnishing  the  stran- 
ger with  every  facility  for  securing  a  knowledge  of  the 
metropolis.  These  men  are  seen  upon  every  corner, 
and  in  every  lane  and  avenue  of  the  city ;  and  their 
presence  enables  a  stranger  to  feel  as  safe  at  midnight 
as  at  noonday.  Hour  after  hour  have  I  walked  up  and 
down  with  one  of  these  men,  listening  to  some  tale  of 
horror  in  which  he  has  been  called  to  act  a  part. 
Scarcely  was  I  in  London  a  waking  hour  in  which  I 
did  not  make  an  inquiry  of  some  one  of  them,  and 
oftentimes  my  question  was  the  suggestion  of  Yankee 
inquisitiveness ;  yet  in  no  single  instance  did  I  receive 
an  uncivil  reply,  or  hear  an  uncourteous  remark. 

One  morning,  I  Avas  directed  by  one  of  these  men  to 
the  "  Old  Bailey,"  one  of  the  most  notorious  courts  in 
21  N* 


162  EUROPA. 

London,  where  about  four  thousand  offenders  are  tried 
annually.  The  court  room  was  a  very  mean  one,  and 
thronged  with  policemen,  barristers,  and  spectators.  I 
paid  a  small  fee,  and  was  admitted  to  the  gallery.  The 
case  was  an  -affecting  one.  A  young  man  about  twenty- 
two  years  of  age  had  committed  an  assault  upon  his 
aged  mother,  (as  near  as  I  could  judge  of  the  case  by 
the  short  time  I  remained,)  by  which  she  had  died  at 
the  time,  or  soon  afterwards  ;  and  here  he  was  arraigned 
for  matricide.  The  particulars  of  the  case  I  could  not 
collect ;  and,  though  I  examined  the  papers  afterwards, 
I  could  not  learn  his  fate. 

The  number  of  courts  in  London  is  not  large ;  but 
those  that  do  exist  drive  business,  as  you  may  judge 
from  the  fact  that,  within  five  years,  (between  1844  and 
1848,)  three  hundred  and  seventy-four  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  ten  persons  were  taken  into  custody  by 
the  police  ;  and,  during  the  same  years,  there  were  sev- 
enty thousand  eight  hundred  and  eighty-nine  robberies, 
in  which  property  was  stolen  to  the  amount  of  one 
million  three  hundred  and  fifty-four  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars. 

Near  by  Old  Bailey  is  the  famous  Newgate  Prison,  a 
cold,  forbidding-looking  stone  edifice,  in  the  heart  of 
the  city.  I  felt  a  cold  shudder  pass  over  me  as  I  en- 
tered with  a  policeman  one  day,  and  pursued  my  way 
through  the  halls  and  by  the  cells,  from  out  of  which 
glared  the  eyes  of  the  criminals,  now  wet  with  tears, 
and  then  glistening  with  rage  and  hate.  In  the  prison 
is  a  chapel,  in  which  the  English  service  is  read  to  the 
prisoners.  In  the  center  of  this  chapel  is  a  chair  Avhich 
is  assigned  to  the  condemned  murderer,  and  in  which 
he  sits  on  the  Sabbath  previous  to  his  execution.  In 
other  days,  a  coffin,  in  which  he  was  soon  to  be  buried, 


PRISONS  — EAGGED   SCHOOLS  — GIN  PALACES.         163 

was  brought  in  and  laid  at  his  feet,  that,  as  the  service 
went  on,  the  doomed  man  might  see  it,  and  be  continu- 
ally reminded  of  his  coming  fate.  Frequently  the  pris- 
oner did  not  know  the  time  appointed  for  his  execution 
until  he  was  led  in  and  seated  in  the  condemned  chair, 
where,  in  some  cases,  he  sat  in  sullen  silence,  and,  in 
other  cases,  in  sobbing  grief  I  thought  I  would  like 
to  gather  the  young  men  of  our  city  around  me  in  that 
stern,  gloomy  chapel,  and  preach  a  discourse  to  them 
on  the  "  dissuasives  from  crime,"  and  draw  from  those 
condemned  cells,  cold  walls,  and  the  criminal's  chair, 
illustrations  of  the  truth  of  the  Scripture  declaration, 
that  "  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard."  But,  alas ! 
sermons  are  never  preached  in  that  chapel  until  it  is  too 
late.  In  front  of  the  prison  is  an  open  space,  in  which 
prisoners  are  executed ;  and,  as  I  walked  across  it,  the 
very  earth  seemed  stained  with  blood.  I  visited  several 
prisons,  but  saw  nothing  which  differed  materially  from 
prisons  in  America. 

The  ragged  schools  of  London  present  a  more  sad  and 
solemn  picture  of  the  condition  of  the  city  than  do  the 
prisons.  I  never  knew  what  a  ragged  school  was  until 
I  saw  one.  I  never  imagined  the  scene  which  presented 
itself  to  my  view  as  I  entered  such  an  institution.  A 
clerical  friend  accompanied  me,  one  afternoon,  to  see  one 
of  these  schools.  About  fifty  boys  were  assembled,  just 
as  they  had  been  gathered  up  out  of  the  filth  of  the 
street.  Their  clothes  were  torn  and  ragged,  their  faces 
dirty,  and  their  hair  uncombed.  In  a  little,  narrow 
room,  unventilated  and  dreary,  they  were  crowded  to- 
gether. The  presence  of  strangers  restrained  them  but 
a  moment,  when  they  began  to  train  to  the  best  of  their 
ability.  At  the  request  of  the  teacher,  I  addressed 
them  in  simple  language,  telling  them   the  story  of 


164  EUROPA. 

Jesus,  from  his  birth  to  his  dreadful  cruciiixion  on  Cal- 
vary. While  I  was  describing  scenes  in  the  Savior's 
life,  they  listened ;  but  when  I  began  to  urge  them  to 
love  the  Savior,  they  began  to  play.  I  continued  until 
I  saw  a  lad  about  fifteen  years  of  age  ripping  the  bind- 
ing from  my  hat,  which  was  already  pretty  well  used 
up.  After  my  remarks  were  closed,  a  gentleman  pres- 
ent offered  prayer.  He  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hands, 
and  his  handkerchief  in  his  hat.  "When  his  prayer  was 
nearly  finished,  a  large  boy  made  a  pass,  and,  seizing 
the  handkerchief,  uttered  a  shout,  and  ran  out  into  the 
street,  followed  by  nearly  the  whole  school.  It  was 
one  of  the  most  laughingly  painful  scenes  I  ever  wit- 
nessed. The  clergyman  kept  on  praying,  the  teacher 
ran  after  the  handkerchief,  and  I  stood  by  debating 
whether  it  was  best  for  me  to  w^eep  or  laugh. 

On  another  occasion,  I  visited  a  school  in  company 
with  Rev.  Mr.  Overbury,  in  which  the  government 
seemed  to  be  nearly  as  defective.  I  tried  to  speak,  and 
my  friend  tried  to  j)ray  ;  but  neither  of  us  could  secure 
the  attention  of  the  wretched-looking  little  creatures 
who  sat  on  the  side  benches,  pictures  of  abject  poverty 
and  wo. 

But  the  most  terrible  scene  of  this  kind  I  witnessed 
on  the  last  Sabbath  evenmg  of  my  stay  in  London.  I 
had  preached  in  the  evening  for  Rev.  Mr.  Stovel,  and 
one  of  his  friends  accompanied  me  to  a  school  in  Field 
Lane,  near  Smithfield.  This  school  is  in  the  vicinity 
of  one  of  the  most  depraved  portions  of  the  city  ;  and 
those  who  attend  are,  in  many  cases,  notorious  thieves, 
who  come  in  for  a  purpose  which  will  afterwards  be 
seen.  We  found  the  building,  and  went  up  over  a  nar- 
row staircase  into  a  chamber  which  would  hold  about 
two  hundred  persons.      The  walls  were  whitewashed, 


PRISONS  —  RAGGED   SCHOOLS  — GIN  PALACES.         165 

and  mottoes  and  sentences  of  Scripture  were  put  up  all 
around.  In  one  end  were  a  platform  and  gallery  for 
singers,  and  opposite,  in  the  other  end,  was  a  rude 
painting  of  Christ  blessing  little  children.  The  school 
was  done  when  we  entered,  and  a  prayer  meeting  was 
being  held.  The  children  had  retired,  but  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  men  and  women  remained.  They 
were  all  in  a  kneeling  posture ;  but  many  heads  were 
up,  eyes  gazing  about,  and  hands  employed  in  molesting 
others.  We  made  our  way  to  the  platform,  where  we 
found  several  American  clergymen,  and  from  where  we 
could  obtain  a  fair  view  of  the  whole  school.  And 
such  a  spectacle  I  never  saw  before.  Each  counte- 
nance bore  some  feature  of  hate,  malice,  knavery,  or 
of  wo  and  wretchedness.  Poorly  clad,  with  unshaven 
faces  and  sinister  expression,  they  formed  a  group  such 
as  could  be  gathered  from  no  state's  prison  in  America. 
Some  were  barefoot ;  some  were  shirtless ;  some  had 
red  and  swollen  eyes  —  sure  evidence  of  intemperance ; 
and  some  had  eyes  keen  and  piercing ;  some  looked  as 
if  they  had  spent  the  day  in  a  coal-pit ;  not  one  seemed 
to  have  had  any  thing  to  do  with  water  and  soap  ;  and 
such  disagreeable  effluvia  —  D  ! 

Two  or  three  prayers  were  offered,  two  or  three 
hymns  were  sung,  and  the  meeting  closed.  We  then 
went  down  into  the  room  under  the  school,  to  see  about 
seventy-five  of  the  men  "  put  to  bed,"  as  the  term  is. 
In  the  dormitories,  accommodations  are  made  for  lodg- 
ing about  one  hundred.  They  are  furnished  with  a 
blanket,  which  they  can  use  for  bed,  coverlet,  or  pillow. 
The  cribs,  or  berths,  are  about  seven  feet  long  and  three 
wide,  and  into  them  the  poor  creatures  crawl  for  the 
night.  A  roll  of  bread  is  given  to  each  one  for  supper 
and  breakfast.     The  prospect  of  a  lodging-place  at  night 


166  EUROPA. 

is  the  inducement  for  these  unhappy  persons  to  come 
to  the  school.  They  are  let  out  in  the  morning,  and 
work,  beg,  or  steal,  as  they  have  inclination,  during  the 
day,  and  then  return  at  night.  Mr.  Greeley,  describing 
a  visit  made  by  him  to  this  same  school,  speaks  of  the  ■ 
compartments  where  these  men  sleep  as  "  half  way  be- 
tAveen  a  bread  tray  and  a  hog  trough,"  and  affirms  that 
"  there  are  not  many  hogs  in  America  who  are  not 
better  lodged  than  these  poor  human  brothers  and  sis- 
ters." No  man  with  a  human  heart  can  go  in  and  look 
upon  this  scene  of  degradation  without  being  moved 
with  pity.  The  first  feeling  will  be  one  of  surprise, 
which  will  soon  lose  itself  in  deep  commiseration  for 
the  miserable  objects  of  want  and  crime.  For  days,  I 
could  not  efiace  the  scene  from  my  memory ;  and  now 
it  rises  up  before  me  like  a  dark  vision  which  I  well 
remember  to  have  seen,  but  which  I  can  hardly  believe 
to  be  an  existing  fact.  As  I  returned  from  this  ragged 
school,  I  passed  a  little  lane  into  which  I  saw  the  peo- 
ple running ;  and,  as  I  always  made  it  a  point  to  see 
all  that  could  be  seen,  I  ran  too.  Mingling  in  the 
crowd,  I  soon  found  in  the  center  two  women  engaged 
in  a  desperate  fight.  What  the  cause  was  I  do  not 
know ;  but  they  were  aiming  their  blows  at  each 
other  with  well-du'ected  fury.  A  crowd  of  women  were 
urging  them  on,  and,  for  a  few  minutes,  the  scene  baffled 
all  description.  The  police  soon  led  them  off,  each  with 
black  eyes  and  bruised  nose,  cursing  each  other  from 
lips  out  of  which  the  blood  was  flowing  continually. 
Sabbath  schools  in  London,  while  they  draw  much 
attention,  do  not  accomplish  the  good  which  they  might 
were  they  differently  conducted.  The  rich  and  influ- 
ential do  not  care  to  send  their  children  to  them,  and 
hence  few  besides  the  poor  attend.     As  far  as  I  could 


PRISONS  — RAGGED   SCHOOLS  — GIN  PALACES.         167 

judge  from  a  visit  made  to  Mr.  Noel's  Sabbath  school 
and  several  others,  the  children  who  attend  are  mostly 
the  children  of  poor  parents.  I  asked  a  little  girl,  with 
whom  I  walked  home  from  church  one  day,  if  she  went 
to  Sunday  school.  She  looked  in  my  face  to  see  if  I  was 
in  earnest,  and,  seeing  I  was,  gave  me  a  negative  reply 
with  the  utmost  contempt.  I  was  urging  this  point  at 
breakfast  one  morning  with  a  clergyman  of  the  church 
of  England,  who  said  to  me  frankly,  "  I  do  not  think 
it  well  that  the  poor  should  receive  much  education 
in  the  Sabbath  school."  "  And  pray,  why  not,  sir  1  " 
"  Because  it  will  give  them  wrong  notions  of  society, 
and  make  them  wish  to  rise  above  their  leveV  I  could 
scarcely  restrain  my  expression  of  contempt  for  a  man 
who,  in  this  age,  should  be  guilty  of  such  an  abominable 
remark.  "  Above  their  level ! "  as  if  there  could  be 
any  level  to  which  a  child  with  a  heart  and  conscience 
might  not  wish  to  rise,  and  on  which,  if  he  could  reach 
it,  he  has  no  right  to  stand !  The  man's  name  I  wrote 
in  my  journal  on  the  day  when  this  remark  was  made ; 
but  yesterday  I  blotted  it  out,  and  hope  I  may  never 
see  it  written,  or  hear  it  spoken,  until  the  man  who 
holds  such  an  inhuman  sentiment  finds  his  level ;  and 
where  that  will  be,  the  Lord  only  knows.  But  this  man 
is  not  alone.  The  sentiment  which  he  uttered  is  one 
which  struggles  out  every  week  from  the  public  jour- 
nals, and  from  the  altars  of  the  established  church,  and 
Exeter  Hall  seems  to  be  almost  the  only  place  where 
Humanity  can  freely  utter  her  voice. 

The  world  over,  the  c/in  palaces  of  London  are  men- 
tioned as  objects  of  painful  curiosity.  I  was  more 
eager  to  see  them  than  I  was  to  gaze  upon  the  stately 
walls  of  old  Buckingham,  or  wander  through  the  halls 
of  Windsor  Castle.     Several  Saturday  evenings  passed 


, 


168  EUROPA. 

by  me  in  London  I  devoted  to  this  purpose,  and  in 
accomplishing  it  saw  many  a  scene  which  made  my 
heart  bleed.  A  London  gin  palace  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  gin  shop,  with  splendid  adornments, 
where  the  poor  come  to  drink  their  poison.  On  Sat- 
urday evening,  the  business  is  most  flourishing,  and 
many  a  poor  forlorn  object  of  charity  and  pity  comes 
to  spend  the  earnings  of  the  w  eek  in  the  elixir  of  death. 
My  usual  plan  in  visiting  the  palaces  was,  to  divest 
myself  of  every  thing  which  would  indicate  my  profes- 
sion, and  desire  to  see  the  horrors  of  the  system,  and  sit 
down  on  a  bench  or  chair,  until  I  found  I  was  drawing 
observation,  and  then  leave  for  some  new  field  of  study 
and  reflection.  One  evening,  in  company  with  a  police 
officer  whom  I  feed  for  the  purpose,  I  went  to  one  of 
the  worst  of  these  places,  and  sat  down.  The  shop 
was  adorned  and  fitted  in  good  style.  Every  thing  was 
clean  and  shining.  Silver  knobs  and  inscriptions,  pol- 
ished drinking  vessels,  reflected  the  brilliant  rays  of  the 
burning  gas.  The  young  men  and  women,  who  were 
dealing  out  the  liquid  fire,  were  genteel,  benevolent- 
looking  people,  and  one  might  almost  imagine  the  place 
to  be  the  depository  of  life,  instead  of  the  depot  of 
death.  I  sat  down,  with  a  cap  on  my  head,  on  a  seat 
opposite  the  bar,  behind  a  crowd  of  customers.  A  con- 
tinual tide  was  passing  in  and  out,  and  I  counted,  in 
the  short  time  I  remained,  fifty-seven  persons  who  came 
and  went.  One  woman,  with  a  babe  about  seven  weeks 
old,  came  and  sat  down  on  the  bench  near  me,  and  very 
politely  offered  to  share  her  gin  with  me.  She  had  a 
pot  which  might  have  held  nearly  a  pint.  I  could  not 
accept  of  her  kind  offer,  but  entered  into  conversation 
with  her.  She  had  drank  enough  to  be  quite  talkative, 
and  soon  some  very  interesting  portions  of  her  history 


PRISONS  — RAGGED   SCHOOLS —  GIN  PALACES.         169 

were  told.  Now  and  then  would  she  stop  sipping  her 
gin,  to  nurse  her  babe.  Two  little  girls,  apparently  twin 
sisters,  with  a  mother,  also  came,  and  sat  down  near. 
They  were  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  and  I 
looked  to  see  if  the  brutal  keepers  would  sell  spirits  to 
such  children.  As  they  advanced  to  the  counter,  they 
were  greeted  with  a  smile  of  recognition,  and  a  dose  of 
the  poison  given  them,  which  they  drank  without  a 
.moment's  hesitation,  not  even  stopping  to  smack  their 
lips.  They  returned  to  the  bench,  and  began  to  con- 
verse with  those  around  them ;  and  of  all  the  streams 
of  filthy,  blasphemous  words  which  I  ever  heard  flow 
from  human  lips,  this  surpassed  all.  Almost  every  man 
that  approached  them  would  be  invited  to  drink,  or  to 
give  them  drink,  until  they  became  so  noisy  that  they 
were  ordered  by  the  keeper  to  depart.  One  old  man 
standing  in  a  corner,  was  so  drunk  that  he  would  fall 
if  he  moved ;  and  so  there  he  stood,  over  eighty  years 
of  age,  uttering  a  torrent  of  abuse,  and  hiccoughing  out 
his  blasphemy.  For  more  than  a  half  hour  he  stood 
in  this  condition,  abused  by  the  keeper,  ridiculed  by  the 
customers,  until  an  aged  woman,  with  tears  streaming 
down  her  cheeks,  opened  the  door,  pressed  her  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  led  him  out  amid  the  derision 
of  those  who  remained.  I  saw  a  woman  who  was 
endeavoring  to  induce  her  son  to  leave  and  return  home 
with  her.  Words  and  blows  he  gave  her  in  return, 
and  positively  refused  to  leave.  I  felt  for  that  poor 
woman,  and  determined  to  help  out  her  argument,  and 
forthwith  began  to  advise  the  young  man  to  obey  the 
voice  of  maternal  counsel,  and  return  home.  But  I 
soon  found  I  was  provoking  a  storm.  He  very  kindly 
informed  me  that  unless  "  I  held  my  jaw  he  would  send 
his  flippers  into  my  peepers  ; "  and  though  I  did  not 
22  0 


170  EUROPA. 

understand  his  language  precisely,  I  concluded  that 
such  a  catastrophe  as  he  threatened  was  nowise  desi- 
rable, as  I  was  engaged  to  preach  the  next  day.  So  I 
wisely  refrained,  and  saw  the  poor  woman  move  away, 
with  a  sigh  from  a  heart  which  doubtless  had  been  long 
broken.  The  young  man  remained,  and  when  I  left 
the  shop,  he  was  half  asleep,  his  head  leaning  against  a 
post  near  by  the  bench  on  which  he  was  sitting. 

The  most  deplorable  sights  which  I  saw  in  these 
breathing-holes  of  hell  were  those  in  which  mothers 
brought  their  children  forward  to  the  counter,  and  gave 
them  the  dram.  These  cases  were  not  unfrequent,  and 
the  children  seemed  to  relish  the  gin  as  much  as  their 
parents.  Probably  the  liquor  sold  in  these  establish- 
ments is  much  diluted,  or  such  quantities  of  it  could 
not  be  drank.  Seldom  did  I  see  water  put  into  it  by 
those  who  used  it,  but  it  was  generally  taken  as  drawn 
from  the  cask.  The  spectacle  presented  at  these  places 
was  dreadful.  Old  men  and  young  men ;  old  women 
and  maidens  ;  mothers  with  nursing  children,  and  others 
with  little  boys  and  girls  just  beginnmg  to  walk;  the 
young  buck,  and  the  old,  worn-out,  coatless  wanderer, 
—  all  gathered  in  one  den  of  infamy,  to  drain  the  cup  of 
madness,  and  go  forth  deeper  sunken  and  more  terribly 
infuriated,  to  curse  earth,  poison  domestic  life,  and  ren- 
der home  a  hell  on  earth  !  I  know  not  but  such  scenes 
may  be  witnessed  in  the  large  cities  of  America,  but  I 
never  found  them.  If  they  do  exist  among  us,  they 
are  more  concealed  and  covered  up  from  the  public 
gaze.  In  England,  they  live  and  thrive  on  the  best  N 
streets,  in  the  most  public  places,  open  as  the  day,  ■ 
and  bright  as  lamplight  and  gaslight  can  make  them. 
They  constitute  one  of  the  dark  pictures  in  England's 
history,  and  stain  the  fair  name  of  her  people  with 
blots  of  shame  and  crime. 


KEFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.     171 


XIV. 

REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS. 

The  temperance  cause  in  England  is  low,  and  few 
care  to  be  associated  with  it.  Wine  and  beer  drinking 
are  very  common,  and  men  in  all  professions  seem  to  be 
as  yet  untaught  in  the  principles  of  abstinence.  I  did 
not  dine  with  friends,  in  any  one  instance  which  I  now 
remember,  in  which  wine  was  not  on  the  table,  and 
freely  used  by  more  or  less  present.  The  clergyman, 
as  he  enters  and  leaves  his  pulpit,  deems  it  useful  to 
sustain  him  ;  and  in  this  respect  the  congregation  freely 
imitate  him.  Well  do  I  remember  the  first  time  I 
preached  in  England :  as  I  came  down  out  of  the  pul- 
pit into  the  vestry  in  the  rear,  two  deacons,  one  with  a 
bottle  and  tumbler,  and  the  other  with  a  plate  of  crack- 
ers, met  me,  saying,  "Ye'll  take  a  little,  wont  ye, 
brother  E.  ?  "  The  whole  scene  was  so  novel,  and  to 
me  so  unexpected,  and  withal  so  ludicrous,  that  I 
could  not  avoid  an  uncivil  laugh,  at  the  same  time 
assuring  them  that  I  did  not  need  the  "  good  creature." 
They  were  surprised  that  a  man  whom  they  had  hith- 
erto regarded  as  in  his  right  mind  should  refuse  a  glass 
of  wine.  I  attended  several  temperance  meetings,  and 
found  them  of  ^  an  entirely  different  character  from 
such  gatherings  in  America.  The  teetotalers,  as  they 
are  called,  are  to  England  what  the  rabid,  hot-headed 
come-outers  are  to  this  country.  Instead  of  working  as 
temperance  men  have  done  among  us,  they  are  violent, 


172  EUROPA. 

denunciatory,  and  rash,  dealing  their  blows  alike  among 
friends  and  foes.  Whoever  does  not  see  the  subject  as 
they  do,  is  blacked  and  lampooned  without  mercy. 
Thus  good  men  keep  aloof,  and  dare  not  trust  them- 
selves in  company  with  those  who  have  more  zeal  than 
judgment,  and  who  are  ready  to  call  down  fire  upon 
every  head  which  does  not  wear  the  same  distinctive 
badge  with  themselves.  One  meeting  which  I  attended 
M'as  taken  up  in  trying  to  prove  that  Sabbath  schools, 
as  conducted  in  England,  are  promotive  of  crime ; 
and  statistics  were  introduced  to  show  how  large  a 
proportion  of  criminals  have  ever  been  connected  with 
these  institutions.  The  impression  made  on  my  mind 
was,  that  temperance  men  must  exhibit  a  more  lovely 
spirit,  ere  their  principles  can  prevail  to  any  great 
extent. 

I  think,  also,  that  much  of  the  anti-slavery  of  Eng- 
land is  spurious.  Englishmen  are  loud  in  their  de- 
nunciation of  our  national  sin,  and  almost  every  week 
the  walls  of  Exeter  Hall  ring  with  some  declamation 
upon  the  wrongs  of  American  bondage.  Well,  it  is 
bad  enough,  earth  and  heaven  knows.  No  speech 
can  set  it  forth  in  a  more  odious  light  than  it  de- 
serves. It  is  "  the  sum  of  all  villainies,"  and  no  man 
has  a  right  to  defend  it.  But  with  the  anti-slavery 
of  England  I  have  no  patience.  It  often  consists  of 
a  curious  compound  of  national  spleen  and  spite, 
prejudice  and  revenge.  The  speeches  which  are  made 
upon  the  subject  are  generally  in  a  taunting,  bitter 
spirit,  which  no  American,  however  strongly  he  may 
be  disposed  to  oppose  slavery,  can  but  resent.'  The 
citizen  of  the  States  is  expected,  when  he  makes  a 
speech,  to  cast  some  slur  back  upon  his  country  ;  and 
if  he  does  not  do  it,  he  is  not  applauded.     Ministers 


REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.    173 

are  treated  with  disrespect,  and  shut  out  of  pulpits ; 
statesmen  are  vexed  and  plagued  by  remarks  founded 
on  an  entire  misapprehension  of  the  condition  of  things 
in  this  country,  and  every  means  taken  to  lacerate  the 
feelings  of  those  who  are  here  the  sincere  friends  of 
freedom.  A  minister  of  London  said  to  me  one  day, 
"You  will  preach  for  me  to-morrow,  brother  E.,  will 
you  not '? "  "  Yes,  if  you  desire  it."  "  But  under- 
stand," he  added,  "  I  invite  you  on  condition  that  you 
have  no  love  of  the  fugitive  slave  law,  and  no  fellow- 
ship with  those  who  have."  "  I  shall  not  preach  for 
you,"  I  replied,  "  on  any  such  conditions.  You  know 
me  to  be  from  a  free  state,  and  opposed  to  slavery ;  and 
your  '  condition '  is  a  thrust  at  my  country.  I  shall  not 
preach  for  you."  He  apologized  and  argued ;  but  I 
would  not  consent.  Perhaps  I  exhibited  some  Yankee 
obstinacy  ;  but  I  could  not  help  it.  I  told  him  plainly 
that  the  flings  at  our  nation  come  with  ill  grace  from 
England,  by  whom  the  curse  of  slavery  came  upon  us  ; 
from  England,  whose  colonies  we  were  when  it  was 
introduced ;  by  whom,  for  years,  until  it  became  too 
strong  to  be  managed,  it  was  sustained  ;  a  nation  whose 
hands  are  scarcely  washed  from  its  stains,  and  whose 
suffering  poor  are  calling  for  redress  in  vain. 

One  night,  I  attended  an  anti-slavery  meeting  in 
Freemasons'  Hall.  Several  speakers  were  introduced, 
all  of  whom  came  down  upon  America  with  a  ven- 
geance. One  of  the  speakers  asked,  "  What  can  Brit- 
ons do  to  alleviate  the  woes  of  slaves  in  the  States  ? " 
"When  he  had  taken  his  seat,  Horace  Greeley  was  intro- 
duced, who  went  into  the  subject  in  a  fine  style.  In  a 
very  deliberate  manner,  and  yet  in  a  way  that  they  could 
not  misunderstand,  he  told  them  to  be  consistent,  re- 
dress the  wrongs  of  their  own  suffering  poor,  and  come 


174  EUROPA. 

up  to  the  true  idea  of  liberty,  and  our  people  would 
soon  follow  the  example.  It  was  very  amusing  to  wit- 
ness the  effect  upon  the  assembly.  Those  composing  it 
were  too  polite  to  retire  or  hiss,  but  a  freemason  sitting 
on  a  hot  gridiron  could  not  have  been  more  uneasy 
than  most  of  them. 

Almost  every  negro  who  goes  from  this  country  is 
caught  up,  hugged  with  desperation,  and  almost  loved 
to  death.  If  he  can  show  a  scar  on  his  back,  his  for- 
tune is  made ;  and  if  he  can  tell  a  few  vulgar,  silly 
stories,  he  is  a  wonder  of  wonders.  I  would  give 
a  negro  his  due.  If  he  has  intellect,  goodness,  and 
piety,  I  would  so  far  respect  him,  and  treat  him  as 
kindly  as  I  would  a  white  man  under  similar  circum- 
stances. But  the  idea  of  catching  up  a  negro  simply 
because  he  is  a  negro,  and  thrusting  him  into  the 
pulpit,  and  on  the  platform,  where  a  white  man,  with 
equal  ability  and  goodness,  would  not  be  allowed  to 
stand,  is  a  great  piece  of  folly,  which  the  English  just 
now  are  desirous  of  committing  to  any  extent.  On 
the  very  evening  on  which  I  arrived  in  London,  I  at- 
tended a  monstrous  Sabbath  school  meeting,  at  which 
were  present  about  five  thousand  Sabbath  school  teach- 
ers, who  were  admitted  by  ticket.  Several  excellent 
speeches  were  made,  when  an  old  man  got  up  and  went 
into  tht?  slavery  question.  On  the  platfonn  was  a 
negro  who  has  been  wandering  over  this  country,  every 
where  received  with  kindness,  and  admitted  to  pulpits 
into  which  he  never  could  have  entered  if  he  had  been 
a  white  man,  with  no  more  ability.  The  old  man,  — 
whom  I  understood  to  be  Rev.  John  Burnet,  —  after 
introducing  himself  in  some  incoherent  and  inconsist- 
ent remarks,  turned  round,  and  began  to  address  him- 
self to  this  negro.     He  congratulated  him  upon  the 


REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.    175 

fact  that  he  was  no  copper-color,  half-and-half  man,  — 
I  use  his  very  words,  —  but  a  real  jet  black.  Thus 
applauding  him,  he  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  flung 
up  his  arms,  and  cried,  "  England  and  Africa  forev- 
er! "  No  child  who  had  received  a  new  toy  could  be 
more  pleased  than  was  this  aged  minister  in  having  a 
negro  to  pet  and  flatter.  And  the  whole  congregation 
enjoyed  it  much.  It  gave  them  an  admirable  opportu- 
nity to  vent  their  spleen  at  our  country,  and  they  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  improve  it. 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  this  negro  was  called 
upon  to  speak.  He  arose  completely  intoxicated  with 
the  praise  he  had  received.  The  poor  fellow  scarcely 
knew  which  way  to  turn,  or  how  to  act,  and  his  whole 
speech  was  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  harangues  I  ever 
heard.  He  informed  the  audience,  what  they  sincerely 
desired  to  hear,  that  there  was  no  liberty,  and  not  a 
single  freeman,  in  America.  To  one  who  was  a  stran- 
ger to  our  institutions,  he  would  have  given  the  impres- 
sion that  we  were  a  nation  whose  only  product  w^as  the 
bowie-knife,  and  whose  only  glory  was  human  slavery. 
But  he  could  not  long  refrain  from  speaking  of  himself, 
even  to  abuse  our  country ;  and  he  began  to  eulogize 
his  own  career,  and  exult  in  the  favor  which  he  had 
received  from  the  people  of  England.  "Why,"  said 
he,  "when  the  reverend  gentleman  took  me  by  the 
hand,  my  heart  swelled  up  as  big  as  a  good  fat  ox." 
Thus  he  continued  some  fifteen  minutes  in  a  strain  of 
foolishness  and  abuse,  which  was  received  by  one  of 
the  finest  audiences  ever  collected  in  the  world  with 
shouts  of  approbation.  While  relating  some  fact  con- 
nected with  his  past  experience,  he  wished  to  mention 
something  which  he  said  to  his  wife.  "  Says  I,  moth- 
er— "     Then  checking  himself,  he  remarked,  "  When 


176  EUROPA. 

we  wish  to  speak  to  our  wives  in  my  country,  we  say 
'  mother  ; '  and  I  adopted  this  language,  not  that  I  did 
not  love  her  enough  to  say  '  my  dear,'  as  you  do  here, 
but  it  is  a  way  we  have,  you  know." 

The  speech  of  which  the  above  is  a  specimen  closed 
with  the  following  poetical  effusion :  — 

"  Honor  to  the  brave, 
Freedom  to  the  slave, 
Success  to  British  liberty, 
And  God  bless  Queen  Victoria." 

I  introduce  this  account  not  to  ridicule  the  negro, 
but  to  show  that  British  anti-slavery,  instead  of  being 
a  pure  desire  to  give  freedom  to  the  enslaved  and  lib- 
erty to  the  oppressed,  is  mixed  up  with  a  very  large 
preponderance  of  national  prejudice  and  spleen,  which 
finds  vent  through  this  channel ;  and  an  Exeter  Hall 
audience  will  put  up  with  and  rapturously  applaud 
any  speech,  and  reprint  it  with  every  token  of  admira- 
tion and  approbation,  however  destitute  it  may  be  of 
wit  and  common  sense,  if  it  only  gives  an  occasion  for 
John  Bull  to  "  put  his  flippers  into  the  peepers "  of 
Brother  Jonathan,  as  the  young  man  classically  re- 
marked to  me  in  the  gin  palace. 

There  is  one  great  barrier  to  all  reform  in  England, 
and  that  is  the  unhallowed  caste  Avhich  exists  between 
the  two  extremes  of  society.  I  was  reminded  every 
day,  while  I  was  in  England,  of  the  caste  of  color 
which  exists  in  America,  and  which  Englishmen  appear 
to  view,  and  which,  indeed,  every  man  should  view, 
with  feelings  of  righteous  abhorrence.  But  the  caste 
of  rank  and  wealth  is  as  broad,  and  deep,  and  destruc- 
tive as  is  the  caste  of  color  here.  An  Eno-lish  noble- 
man  would  have  his  daughter  associate  with,  or  unite 


REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.    177 

herself  in  marriage  to,  a  servant  or  a  poor  mechanic 
no  more  than  would  an  aristocratic  merchant  in  Boston 
marry  his  daughter  to  a  negro,  or  allow  his  son  to  bring 
home  as  his  betrothed  one  a  negress.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, an  impoverished  lord  marries  his  beggared  daugh- 
ter to  the  son  of  a  rich  merchant,  thus  exchanging  title, 
and  rank,  and  birth,  and  blood  for  money ;  but  other 
than  this  an  alliance  is  seldom  made  ;  and  many  a  noble 
would  have  his  daughter  led  to  the  altar  by  a  proud, 
dissolute,  broken-down  son  of  a  duke,  rather  than  by 
an  industrious,  well-disposed,  and  honest  laborer.  Mar- 
riage is  a  thing  of  fashion,  and  woman  is  sacrificed  to 
retain  a  sounding  name  and  an  empty  title. 

The  reforms  of  England  are  generally  carried  on 
with  a  great  many  useless  appendages.  The  public 
meetings  are  often  boisterous  in  the  extreme.  In 
all  the  Sabbath  school,  temperance,  and  anti-slavery 
meetings  which  I  attended,  I  thought  the  speakers 
aimed  to  raise  a  laugh,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
formed  their  speeches  so  as  to  draw  applause  from  the 
congregation.  The  great  Sabbath  school  meeting  to 
which  I  have  referred  was  more  noisy,  with  stamping, 
shouting,  and  clapping,  than  any  political  caucus  which 
I  ever  attended.  Missionary,  Sabbath  school,  and  the 
various  reform  societies  have  frequent  tea  parties  and 
social  gatherings,  and  almost  every  pubhc  effort  is  pre- 
ceded by  one  of  these  religious  frolicks.  One  evening,  I 
was  invited  to  attend  a  meeting  of  ministers,  which  had 
convened  to  discuss  the  question,  "  How  may  religious 
prosperity  be  promoted  in  our  churches  1 "  A  large 
number  of  the  servants  of  God  were  present,  and,  for 
an  hour,  one  of  the  most  thrillingly-interesting  reli- 
gious meetings  which  I  ever  attended  was  held ;  but,  at 
a  given  time,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  servants, 
23 


178  EUROPA. 

bearing  refreshments,  entered,  and  ''religious  prosper- 
ity "  and  all  the  sacred  themes  connected  with  it  were 
forgotten,  while  the  company  gave  themselves  to  mirth 
and  social  enjoyment.  And  we  have  much  reason  to 
fear  that  this  disposition  to  "  frolick  "  is  becoming  a 
too  prominent  element  in  the  labor  to  do  good  in  this 
country.  If  temperance,  liberty,  and  religion  are  to 
be  advanced  only  as  far  as  they  are  connected  with 
picnics,  fairs,  and  frolicks,  w^e  may  fear  that  they  will 
not  be  carried  on  to  any  good  advantage.  If  men  are 
to  be  drawn  into  them  only  for  the  sport  and  fun  which 
they  give,  they  are  sure  to  rest  on  an  unsubstantial 
basis. 

But  I  regard  as  the  great  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
reform  in  England,  the  union  between  the  church  and 
the  state,  which  cripples  and  weakens  all  the  moral 
energy  of  the  kingdom,  and  upholds  a  thousand  tot- 
tering abuses  which  but  for  it  would  fall  before  the 
increasing  light.  The  caste  of  rank  and  birth  could 
not  long  exist  after  the  union  between  a  corrupt  church 
and  the  government  w^as  dissolved.  And  the  day  wiien 
this  union  will  be  abolished,  ay,  and  the  very  throne 
itself,  is  not  far  distant.  The  dissenters  of  England 
have  become"  a  great  and  influential  body,  and  are 
clamoring  for  redress.  And  they  will  agitate  the  sub- 
ject until  the  church  rates,  which  every  man  in  the 
kingdom  is  required  to  pay  to  support  the  church  of 
England,  whether  he  attend  that  church  or  not,  are 
abolished,  and  the  dissenting  denominations  placed  up- 
on the  same  level  with  the  establishment.  When  this 
day  comes,  the  reforms  will  grow  strong  and  mighty ; 
and  when  the  people  are  allowed  to  spend  their  money 
to  support  what  religion  they  choose,  the  church  of 
England,  which  now  impedes  the  progress  of  reforma- 


I 


EEFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.     179 

tion,  will  be  slioi^  of  its  power,  and  the  dissenting 
chapels  will  send  forth  their  streams  of  holy  influence 
to  gladden  the  nation. 

The  last  few  days  spent  in  London,  after  my  return 
from  the  continent,  were  engrossed  by  the  doings  of 
the  Universal  Peace  Congress,  which  held  its  session  in 
Exeter  Hall.  At  an  early  hour  on  the  first  day,  I 
secured  a  seat  upon  the  platform,  more  anxious  to  see 
the  people  than  participate  in  the  deliberations  of  the 
congress.  The  number  of  delegates  present  from  sev- 
eral diiferent  nations  was  quite  large  ;  and  very  soon 
after  the  delegates  who  were  admitted  by  tickets  were 
seated,  the  hall  was  completely  filled  by  the  populace. 

After  a  hasty  organization  of  the  congress,  a  half 
hour  was  spent  in  silent  prayer.  The  scene  was  pro- 
foundly grand.  That  immense  mass  of  heads,  all 
bowed  in  prayer  to  God,  was  awfully  eloquent ;  and 
though  vocal,  audible  prayer  was  omitted  to  please 
that  most  illiberal  of  all  the  sects  who  ever  pretended 
to  liberality,  —  the  Quakers,  —  yet  I  think  no  human 
speech  could  have  equaled  the  silent  breathings  of  that 
vast  assembly. 

The  well-known  philosopher,  Sir  David  Brewster, 
was  chairman,  and  gave  an  opening  speech,  in  which 
beautiful  reference  was  made  to  the  Crystal  Palace, 
surmounted  by  flags  of  all  nations,  untorn  by  fire 
and  unstained  with  blood  —  the  temple  of  peace  and 
industry. 

This  congress  gave  me  a  fine  opportunity  to  see  and 
hear  the  distinguished  men  which  it  brought  together. 
The  most  famous  speech  was  that  of  Richard  Cobden, 
the  noted  corn-law  orator.  He  is  a  man  in  middle  life, 
and  makes  a  very  effective  speech ;  and  his  was  almost 


180  EUROPA. 

the  only  address  I  heard  while  in»England,  from  an 
Englishman,  which  did  not  go  out  of  its  way  to  com- 
pliment that  nation  at  the  expense  of  others.  He  is 
not  an  eloquent  man,  but  a  very  effective  one,  pouring 
out  his  facts  in  a  continuous  stream,  until  his  auditors 
are  convinced  and  overwhelmed.  He  contended  that 
England  had  done  more  to  maintain  the  war  spirit  than 
any  other  nation,  and  asked  his  English  auditors  to 
lay  aside  their  prejudices,  and  divest  themselves  of  the 
flattery  which  had  been  laid  upon  them  of  late,  as  with 
a  trowel,  and  come  home  to  the  sober  facts.  Instead 
of  setting  a  good  example  to  other  nations,  England  had 
been  enlarging  her  own  fortifications,  and  increasing 
her  standing  army.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  where  was  the 
nation  that  had  ever  occupied  so  many  and  such  stra- 
tegic positions  on  the  surface  of  the  globe  1  They  had 
fortified  strong  places,  and  garrisoned  them  all  over  the 
world,  to  such  an  extent,  that,  if  a  war  ever  should 
come  between  them  and  any  other  strong  maritime 
power,  the  first  step  necessary  to  be  taken  would  be  to 
blow  up  and  abandon  some  of  them.  They  had  Gib- 
raltar, Malta,  and  Corfu,  in  the  Mediterranean.  Cross- 
ing the  Isthmus  of  Suez,  they  had  Aden.  Then  came 
the  Mauritius,  which  was  called  the  outwork  of  India. 
Returning,  they  had  a  military  position  at  the  Cape. 
Crossing  the  Atlantic  westward,  they  had  the  powerful 
fortress  of  Halifax,  ready  to  meet  all  comers.  Going 
from  the  continent,  they  came  to  the  Island  of  Bermuda, 
where  they  were  laying  out  enormous  sums  in  fortifica- 
tions ;  and  it  was  but  the  other  day  that  he  had  heard 
an  argument  to  induce  Parliament  to  keep  up  the  forti- 
fications of  Jamaica.  He  should  also  mention  the 
fortifications  of  Quebec,  which  was  called  the  Gibraltar 
of  Canada." 


REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.    181 

From  the  position  of  the  nation  abroad,  he  looked  at 
its  state  at  home  ;  and  here  the  same  hostile,  aggressive 
appearance  was  seen.  He  had  learnt,  in  his  capacity 
as  a  member  of  a  committee  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, that  in  a  time  of  profound  peace,  and  under 
many  protestations  of  a  pacific  policy,  England  "  has 
six  millions  of  pounds'  worth  of  warlike  stores  ;  a  hun- 
dred line-of-battle  ships  afloat  or  on  the  stocks  ;  be- 
tween ten  thousand  and  thirty  thousand  pieces  of 
cannon  ;  thirty  millions  of  musket  ball  cartridges  ;  one 
hundred  and  forty  thousand  pikes ;  twelve  hundred 
thousand  sand-bags  ready  for  use  in  their  fortifications ; 
in  short,  that  they  were  armed  in  every  point,  and  ready 
to  enter  upon  a  gigantic  scheme  of  warlike  operations 
to-morrow." 

Other  able  and  eloquent  speeches  were  made  by  Rev. 
J.  A.  James,  W.  Brock,  Dr.  Beaumont,  of  England,  Dr. 
Beckwith,  and  Elihu  Burritt,  of  America,  Rev.  A. 
Coquerell,  son  of  the  celebrated  orator  of  Paris,  M. 
Girardin,  of  "  La  Presse"  several  members  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  distinguished  strangers  from  the  continent. 

Letters  of  adhesion  were  read  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  among  others  the  following  mystical,  funny, 
absurd  thing,  from  that  most  impudent  and  reckless 
of  all  men  of  letters,  Thomas  Carlyle :  — 

Chelsea,  18th  July,  1851. 

Sir  :  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  attend  any  of  your 
meetings  ;  but,  certainly,  I  can  at  once  avow,  if,  indeed, 
such  avowal  on  the  part  of  any  sound-minded  man  be 
not  a  superfluous  one,  that  I  altogether  approve  your 
object,  heartily  wish  it  entire  success,  and  even  hold 
myself  bound  to  do,  by  all  opportunities  that  are  open 
to  me,  whatever  I  can  towards  forwarding  the  same. 

p 


182  EUROPA. 

How  otherwise  ?  "  If  it  be  possible,  as  much  as  in  you 
lies,  study  to  live  at  peace  with  all  men.  "  This,  sure 
enough,  is  the  perpetual  law  for  every  man,  both  in  his 
individual  and  his  social  capacity ;  nor  in  any  capacity 
or  character  whatsoever  is  he  permitted  to  neglect  this 
law,  but  must  follow  it,  and  do  what  he  can  to  see  it 
followed.  Clearly,  beyond  question,  whatsoever  be  our 
theories  about  human  nature,  and  its  capabilities  and 
outlooks,  the  less  war  and  cutting  of  throats  we  have 
among  us,  it  will  be  the  better  for  us  all !  One  re- 
joices much  to  see  that  immeasurable  tendencies  of  this 
time  are  already  pointing  towards  the  result  you  aim 
at ;  that,  to  all  appearance,  as  men  no  longer  wear 
swords  in  the  streets,  so  neither,  by  and  by,  will  na- 
tions ;  that  among  nations,  too,  the  sanguinary  ultima 
ratio  will,  as  it  has  done  among  individuals,  become 
rarer  and  rarer ;  and  the  tragedy  of  fighting,  if  it  can 
never  altogether  disappear,  will  reduce  itself  more  and 
more  strictly  to  a  minimum  in  our  affairs.  Towards 
this  result,  as  I  said,  all  men  are  at  all  times  bound  to 
cooperate  ;  and,  indeed,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
every  well-behaved  person  in  this  world  may  be  said  to 
be  daily  and  hourly  cooperating  towards  it,  especially 
in  these  times  of  banking,  railwaying,  printing,  and 
penny  posting  ;  when  every  man's  traffickings  and 
laborings,  and  whatever  industry  he  honestly  and  not 
dishonestly  follows,  do  all  very  directly  tend,  whether 
he  knows  it  or  not,  towards  this  good  object  among 
others. 

I  will  say,  further,  what  appears  very  evident  to  me, 
that  if  any  body  of  citizens,  from  one,  or  especially  from 
various  countries,  see  good  to  meet  together,  and  artic- 
ulate, reiterate  these  or  the  like  considerations,  and 
strive  to  make  them  known  and  familiar,  the  world  in 


REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.     183 

general,  so  soon  as  it  can  sum  up  the  account,  may 
rather  hold  itself  indebted  to  them  for  so  doing.  They 
are  in  the  happy  case  of  giving  some  little  furtherance 
to  their  cause  by  such  meetings,  and  (what  is  somewhat 
peeuliar)  of  not  retarding  it  thereby  on  any  side  at  all. 
If  they  be  accused  of  doing  little  good,  they  can  answer 
confidently  that  the  little  good  they  do  is  quite  unal- 
loyed, that  they  do  no  evil  whatever.  The  evil  of  their 
enterprise,  if  evil  there  be,  is  to  themselves  only  ;  the 
good  of  it  goes  wholly  to  the  world's  account  without 
any  admixture  of  evil ;  for  which  unalloyed  benefit, 
however  small  it  be,  the  world  surely  ought,  as  I  now 
do,  to  thank  them  rather  than  otherwise. 

One  big  battle  saved  to  Europe  will  cover  the  ex* 
pense  of  many  meetings.  How  many  meetings  would 
one  expedition  to  Russia  cover  the  expense  of?  Truly 
I  wish  you  all  the  speed  possible ;  well  convinced  you 
will  not  too  much  extinguish  the  wrath  that  dwells  as 
a  natural  element  in  all  Adam's  posterity ;  and  I  beg 
to  subscribe  myself,  sir,  yours  very  sincerely, 

T.  Carlyle. 

Henry  Richard,  Esq.,  Secretary,  &c.,  &c. 

The  eminent  French  statesman,  Victor  Hugo,  sent 
the  following  epistle,  excusing  his  absence :  — 

From  the  National  Assembly,  July  18,  1851. 

Sir  :  I  write  to  you  in  the  midst  of  our  arduous 
struggles  ;  imperative  public  duties  retain  me  in  Paris. 
You  know  what  they  are,  and  you  will  understand, 
certainly,  why  I  cannot  quit  my  post  at  such  a  moment, 
even  to  join  you. 

If  we  owe  a  debt  to  ideas,  we  owe  the  first  debt  to 
our  country.  It  is  for  my  country  I  am  combating 
now. 


184  EUROPA. 

It  is  also  for  ideas  ;  for  all  ideas  and  all  progress 
tend  towards  the  one  great  fact  which  will  invade  the 
entire  civilized  world  through  the  republic  —  the  re- 
public, which  will  brmg  forth  the  united  states  of 
Europe,  a  universal  federation,  and,  consequently,  uni- 
versal peace.  Our  present  struggles  are  fruitful ;  they 
will  be  productive  of  future  peace. 

Allow  me  to  terminate  with  this  word ;  a  word 
which  is  in  my  heart,  and  in  yours,  all  of  you ;  and  in 
the  heart  of  France  too :  — 

"Glory  and  happiness  to  free  England." 

Express  my  regret  to  all  our  friends  of  the  Peace 
Congress,  and  receive  the  fraternal  expression  of  my 

cordiality. 

Victor  Hugo. 

There  were  great  men  present  at  that  congress,  and 
great  speeches  made  by  them,  and  yet  I  cannot  resist 
the  conviction  that  the  meeting  was  a  failure.  I  would 
not  wish  to  think  so.  I  went  out  with  the  credentials 
of  a  delegate.  I  lost  the  opportunity  of  visiting  Scot- 
land in  order  to  attend  its  sittings  ;  but  I  fear  that  the 
whole  effort  will  amount  to  nothing,  and  that  wars  and 
rumors  of  wars  will  be  heard  until  deeper  principles 
shall  be  disseminated  than  any  contained  in  the  resolu- 
tions of  that  congress.  I  observed  also  that  a  large 
majority  of  the  most  active  men  in  this  meeting  were 
of  the  class  best  designated  as  "  Impracticables  "  —  men 
who  have  large  hearts  and  good  intentions,  but  who 
have  no  practical  common  sense. 

There  are  some  men,  who,  if  they  should  meet  a  bear 
in  the  road,  would  address  liim  in  a  most  finished  style, 
and   present   a  most    logical   argument,  while    Bruin 


REFORM  AND  DEFORM  — PEACE  CONGRESS.     185 

would  smack  his  lips  for  blood.  Warriors  and  rulers 
care  no  more  for  the  resolutions  of  peace  conventions 
than  a  bear  would  for  an  argument.  The  cause  of 
peace  never  will  prevail  until  nations  are  made  to  see 
that  war  gives  such  weight  to  their  taxes  ;  until,  in 
nations  where  the  elective  franchise  is  enjoyed,  the 
friends  of  peace  make  themselves  felt  at  the  polls ; 
until  every  man  who  enlists  in  an  army  is  made  to  feel 
that  his  business  is  one  of  murder ;  until  military  titles 
are  made  odious  and  disgraceful ;  until  standing  armies 
are  abolished  ;  indeed,  until  Immanuel,  the  "  Prince  of 
Peace,"  sets  up  his  kingdom  among  the  nations. 

We  now  leave  England,  the  home  of  our  fathers,  and 
cross  over  to  the  continent.  In  succeeding  chapters,  we 
shall  pursue  our  way  from  London  to  Dover,  at  which 
place  we  shall  embark  for  sunny  France  —  for  gay, 
glittering  Paris.  I  have  written  more  than  I  originally 
intended  upon  England,  and  even  now  feel  that  I  have 
done  little  justice  to  the  subjects  discussed.  I  have 
given  an  idea  of  the  things  which  I  have  seen,  and  the 
impression  they  made  upon  my  mind.  These  impres- 
sions may  be,  and  doubtless  are,  in  some  instances, 
incorrect,  as  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  a  stranger, 
spending  a  few  weeks  in  a  country,  should  see  every 
thing,  or  in  all  cases  judge  correctly  of  what  he  did  see. 
I  used  my  time,  feet,  and  eyes  to  the  best  advantage, 
and  if  I  have  misjudged,  why,  there  it  is. 
24  p* 


186  EUROPA. 


XV. 


LONDON  TO  PARIS. 


We  started  from  London  on  the  South-western  Rail- 
way, one  morning  just  as  the  sun  was  clearing  away  the 
mist  which  hung  over  the  metropolis.  It  was  pleasant, 
after  being  shut  up  for  weeks  in  the  city,  to  get  out 
into  the  clear  atmosphere  of  the  country,  where  the 
green  fields  and  fi-esh  breezes  seemed  more  delicious 
than  ever. 

"  Adieu,  the  city's  ceaseless  hum  ! 
The  haunts  of  sensual  life,  adieu ! 
Green  fields  and  silent  glens,  we  come 

To  spend  this  bright  spring  day  with  you." 

The  car  in  which  we  rode  was  an  uncushioned  lum- 
ber box,  scarcely  as  good  as  our  baggage  cars,  and  in- 
habited by  several  Irish  people,  with  crying  babies, 
market  women,  and  some  well-disposed  country  folks, 
from  whom  we  derived  much  valuable  information. 
The  countr}-  through  which  we  rode  was  not  as  fine  as 
that  in  some  other  portions  of  England ;  and  as  we 
passed  along,  few  objects  of  interest  presented  them- 
selves. 

We  arrived  at  Dover,  after  a  ride  of  four  hours,  and 
commenced  at  once  an  examination  of  the  town.  It 
proved  to  be  hardly  w^hat  I  expected,  and  I  soon  dis- 
covered that  a  few  hours  would  make  us  well  enough 
acquainted  with  it.     The  principal  object  of  interest  is 


LONDON  TO  PARIS.  187 

an  old,  dilapidated  castle  on  the  hights.  As  we  went 
climbing  up  the  steep  ascent,  a  tinkling  bell  sounded 
at  our  side,  and  on  looking  around,  we  saw  a  large  box, 
with  "  Remember  the  poor  debtor "  inscribed  upon  it. 
Over  it  was  the  bell,  which  connected  by  a  string  with 
the  cell  of  the  debtor,  who,  as  he  saw  the  stranger 
passing  the  box,  would  call  his  attention  to  it  by  ring- 
ing the  bell.  On  the  hights  which  command  the 
harbor  and  channel  is  the  famous  cannon  known  as 
"  Queen  Elizabeth's  Pocket-piece,"  and  which  was  given 
by  that  queen  to  the  garrison.  It  bears  the  date  of 
1544,  is  twenty-four  feet  long,  and  is  now  so  corroded 
as  to  be  unfit  for  use.  We  looked  in  vain  for  the 
inscription  which  we  always  supposed  was  upon  it :  — 

"  Scour  me  bright  and  keep  me  clean, 
And  I'll  send  a  ball  to  Calais  green." 

The  old  fort  is  governed  by  a  company  of  dull  uni- 
formed soldiers,  who  were  very  civil  to  us.  They  live  a 
life  of  lazy  inactivity,  deriving  their  support  from  the 
hard-earned  wages  of  the  poor.  At  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  and  along  the  shore,  was  spread  out  the  little 
town,  which  seemed  to  give  very  few  signs  of  life  and 
industry. 

At  three  o'clock  we  took  a  little  steamer  for  Calais, 
leaving  behind  us  the  white  cliffs  of  Dover,  and  all  we 
had  seen  of  merry  England;  The  passage  across  the 
channel  was  performed  in  about  two  hours.  The  day 
was  a  delightful  one,  and  the  channel  gave  none  of  its 
usual  signs  of  commotion,  and  we  went  skippmg  on,  — 

"  O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea, 
Our  thoughts  as  boundless,  and  our  homes  as  free  ; 
Far  as  the  breeze  can  bear  the  billows'  foam, 
Behold  our  empire  and  survey  our  home ! " 


188  EUROPA. 

On  arriving  at  Calais,  we  found  the  cars  ready  for 
Paris,  and  we  entered  them  and  were  soon  on  our  way. 
Of  Calais  I  have  no  impression.  I  did  not  remain 
there  long  enough  to  get  a  single  idea  of  the  place. 
All  I  know  is,  that  for  the  first  time  I  was  in  a  country 
where  I  could  understand  scarcely  any  of  the  language, 
and  where  the  orders  of  the  custom-house  officers,  and 
the  yells  of  the  cabmen,  and  the  shouts  of  the  porters, 
were  all  as  unintelligible  as  the  diction  of  the  moon. 
It  was  a  relief  to  get  into  the  cars,  out  of  the  way  of 
officious  and  meddling  hangers-on,  who,  seeing  our 
greenness,  gave  us  any  quantity  of  unsought  advice,  for 
which  we  did  not  even  thank  them ;  though  one  man, 
who  showed  us  where  we  could  purchase  our  tickets, 
demanded  a  franc  as  his  fee,  which  we  paid,  as  the 
shortest  way  of  getting  rid  of  him.  The  country  to 
Paris  is  very  fine,  but  indifferently  cultivated.  The 
farms  around  were  unfenced,  and  the  residences  of  the 
tenants  were  very  poor,  many  of  them  being  built  of 
mud,  and  thatched  with  straw.  The  unusual  sights 
gave  evidence  that  we  were  on  foreign  soil ;  and  the 
constant  jabbering  of  the  Frenchmen  who  were  with 
us  in  the  car,  and  whose  speech  was  as  unintelligible 
to  us  as  ours  was  to  them,  kept  us  constantly  aware 
that  we  were  out  of  the  province  of  good  round  Saxon 
speech,  and  good  wholesome  Saxon  habits. 

The  cars  in  France  are  much  better,  and  the  expense 
of  traveling  less,  than  in  England.  The  second-class 
cars  on  the  continent  are  nearly  equal  to  the  first  in 
Britain,  and  the  first  class  are  fitted  up  in  a  style  of 
surpassing  elegance.  Our  fellow-passengers  were  very 
civil  and  well-disposed  persons,  but  had  on  most  disa- 
greeable beards,  as  black  as  your  boot,  and  almost  as 
lojig,  and  all  the  way  to  Paris   kept  up  a  continual 


LONDON  TO  PARIS.  189 

smoking  of  the  worst  cigars  a  non-smoking  traveler 
ever  had  to  endure. 

On  getting  out  of  the  cars  at  a  station  on  the  way, 
I  tried  to  purchase  some  refreshments,  but  found  the 
keepers  knew  as  little  of  English  as  I  did  of  French, 
and,  for  a  while,  the  prospect  of  securing  a  supper 
seemed  dark ;  but  I  at  length  laid  hold  of  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  nice  pie,  and,  as  I  could  not  understand 
the  price,  pulled  from  my  pocket  all  the  change  I  had, 
and  allowed  the  damsel  in  charge  to  take  as  much  as 
she  chose.  But  on  seating  myself  in  the  cars,  and 
opening  my  pie,  I  found  it  to  contain  nothing  but  a 
sausage.  I  had  not  learnt  to  love  French  cooking ; 
and  this  roll  of  meat,  done  up  in  so  suspicious  a  man- 
ner, brought  to  my  mind  all  the  stories  I  had  ever  heard 
of  the  delightful  manner  in  which  French  cooks  serve 
up  dogs,  cats,  and  babies,  so  that  the  most  experienced 
will  hardly  distinguish  them  from  the  choicest  dishes 
ever  craved  by  the  appetite  of  the  epicure  ;  and  some 
one  very  kindly  began  to  tell  the  story  of  a  distin- 
guished American,  who,  in  China,  sat  down  to  a  sump- 
tuous feast,  and  ate  voraciously  of  a  delicate  dish  which 
was  set  before  him.  When  his  dainty  meal  was  fin- 
ished, and  he  sat  wondering  what  the  food  could  be 
which  had  tempted  his  appetite  to  such  an  extent,  a 
servant  entered,  and,  wishing  to  have  his  curiosity  grat- 
ified, and  yet  being  entirely  unacquainted  with  the  lan- 
guage, he  pointed  to  the  disU,  and  said,  "  Quack,  quack," 
meaning  to  ask  if  it  was  duck.  The  servant  replied, 
"  Bow  wow,  bow  wow,"  intimating  that  the  delicious 
food  was  not  duck,  but  dog.  My  roll  was  thrown  out 
of  the  window,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  French- 
iman,  who  seemed  not  to  comprehend  my  motive,  and  to 
be  shocked  at  my  waste. 


190  EUROPA. 


XVI. 

VIEW  OF  PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS. 

"We  reached  Paris  about  midnight,  and  fell  at  once 
into  the  hands  of  custom-house  officials,  who  rummaged 
our  baggage  to  find  what  valuable  goods  we  had  stored 
away  among  our  dirty  linen,  wherewith  to  defraud  the 
great  and  glorious  French  nation  out  of  the  revenue 
due  its  not  too  well-filled  purse.  At  length,  getting 
clear,  we  went  to  one  hotel ;  but  it  was  full,  and  we 
started  for  another,  and  at  length  drew  up  at  Hotel  do 
Paris,  and,  after  considerable  noise,  aroused  sompbod} 
who  answered  to  the  call  of  landlord.  There  were  but 
two  or  three  spare  apartments,  and  there  were  some  five 
or  six  to  occupy  them ;  and  a  contest  ensued  as  to  who 
should  sleep,  and  who  should  keep  watch.  At  length, 
the  landlord  decided  the  case  by  taking  several  of  us 
up  over  one,  two,  three,  four  —  I  know  not  how  many 
flights  of  stone  stairs,  higher  than  I  was  ever  up  before, 
and  higher  than  I  have  ever  been  since,  into  a  room 
with  a  stone  floor,  cheerless  as  a  tomb,  and  so  far  above 
terrestrial  objects,  that  it  became  a  matter  of  some 
speculation  whether  we  shojild  ever  get  down  again. 

The  next  morning,  the  sun  arose  clear  and  beautiful, 
so  difierent  from  the  damp,  wet,  cold  fogs  of  London, 
that  we  soon  forgot  the  perplexities  of  the  night.  We 
found  private  lodgings  at  a  moderate  price,  and,  in  a 
few  hours,  began  our  rambles  over  the  city.  I  knew 
that  Paris  was  a  gay,  beautiful  city ;  but  my  expectations 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  —  CHURCHES  —  CHAPELS.  191 

were  far  more  than  realized.  The  half  had  not  been 
told  me  of  its  fine  streets,  well-filled,  showy  stores,  and 
its  aristocratic  residences.  Every  thing  seemed  as  gay 
as  the  lark  and  beautiful  as  the  butterfly. 

The  people  of  Paris  are  less  robust  and  noble  than 
the  English.  The  men  are  generally  small  in  stature, 
active,  and  industrious.  The  women  are  less  finely 
formed,  but  have,  as  a  general  thing,  more  personal 
charms  than  their  neighbors  on  the  other  side  of  the 
channel.  The  style  of  dress  is  more  rich  and  gay. 
The  men  pay  far  more  attention  to  a  well-cut  coat,  a 
genteel  hat,  and  a  finely-polished  boot,  than  the  men 
of  any  other  nation  I  have  seen.  I  should  judge  that 
American  fashions  were  half  way  between  the  slouchy 
rig  of  the  English  and  the  extreme  of  fashion  seen 
among  the  French.  The  women  dress  more  gay  and 
showy  than  on  the  other  shore,  and  seem  to  have  a 
fondness  for  light,  airy  fabrics,  and  high  and  dazzling 
figures  and  colors.  About  half  the  women  seen  in  the 
streets  were  destitute  of  bonnets,  and  wore,  instead,  a 
neat,  pretty  muslin  cap.  The  stores  on  the  street  were 
more  attractively  adorned,  and  the  goods  were  displayed 
more  advantageously,  than  in  London,  and  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  place  had  an  aspect  of  cheerfulness. 

The  streets  of  Paris  are  wide,  and  kept  perfectly 
clean.  The  Boulevards  —  formerly  the  foundations  of 
the  city  wall,  which  has  now  been  taken  down  and 
outbuilt  —  run  all  round  the  city,  and  form  the  most 
pacious  broadways  in  the  world.  Holborn  and  Fleet 
Street  do  not  compare  with  them  for  wealth,  cleanU- 
aess,  gayety,  and  splendor,  and  the  stranger  soon  finds 
limself  compelled  to  give  expression  to  his  admiration 
n  the  most  enthusiastic  language. 

What  the  parks  are  to  London,  the  public  squares, 


192  EUROPA. 

or  "  places,"  as  they  are  called,  which  are  generally  or- 
namented with  fountains  or  columns,  are  to  Paris.  Of 
the  "  places  "  and  columns,  there  are  several  of  much 
interest.  The  Place  Vendome  is  an  octagonal  space  in 
which  is  the  triumphal  pillar  erected  by  Napoleon  to 
commemorate  his  German  victories.  The  shaft  is  of 
stone,  and  covered  with  bronze  bass-reliefs  formed  en- 
tirely of  cannon  taken  in  the  battles  of  the  conqueror. 
The  bass-reliefs  are  spiral,  and  display  the  most  noted 
events  in  the  German  campaigns.  On  the  summit  stands 
the  bronze  figure  of  Napoleon  himself,  who  is  looking 
out  from  his  dizzy  elevation  upon  the  passing  multi- 
tudes below.  It  is  an  imitation  of  the  Trajan  pillar  at 
Rome,  and  surpasses  it  in  grandeur,  and  in  the  heroism 
of  the  deeds  which  it  commemorates. 

In  front  of  the  Tuileries  is  the  Place  de  la  Concorde, 
ornamented  with  beautiful  fountains  w^hich  play  cease- 
lessly, and  in  the  center  of  which  rises  the  Luxor  Obe- 
lisk, an  Egyptian  shaft,  at  least  three  thousand  years 
old,  and  which  is  covered  with  unread  Egyptian  char- 
acters. It  was  brought  from  Egypt  during  the  reign 
of  Louis  Philippe.  On  the  base  are  engravings  and 
diagrams  of  the  machine  by  which  it  was  raised  to  its 
present  elevation.  It  is  said  that  the  engineer  who  had 
charge  of  the  work  felt  the  most  extreme  solicitude  as 
to  his  success  ;  and  as  thousands  gathered  to  see  the 
obelisk  rise  to  its  position,  he  moved  among  them  with 
a  charged  pistol  protruding  from  his  vest,  with  which 
he  had  determined  to  commit  suicide,  if,  by  any  acci- 
dent, he  should  fail  in  his  attempt.  The  obelisk  stands 
where  the  guillotine  stood  in  the  time  of  the  revolu- 
tion, and  where  the  wretched  Louis  XVL  and  Marie 
Antoinette,  and  their  unfortunate  friends,  met  a  dread- 
ful fate. 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  -  CHURCHES  —  CHAPELS.  193 

In  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  is  a  pillar  of  bronze,  com- 
memorating the  revolution  of  1830.  It  stands  where 
once  the  Bastille,  that  famous  old  prison,  which,  for 
centuries,  had  been  the  awe  of  freemen,  reared  its  front. 
When,  in  the  indignant  anarchy  of  the  French  popu- 
lace, that  structure  was  demolished,  and  a  stone  of  it  was 
sent  to  every  town  in  the  nation,  this  beautiful  column 
arose  in  its  place.  It  is  covered  with  the  names  of 
those  who  fell  in  the  tumult  of  1830,  and  in  the  base 
is  kept  their  bones  and  dust.  A  spiral  staircase  of  two 
hundred  and  ten  steps  winds  to  the  summit,  on  which 
stands  a  figure  of  Liberty.  The  shaft  towers  to  the 
hight  of  several  hundred  feet,  and  commands  an  exten- 
sive view  of  the  city  and  surrounding  country. 

These  various  columns  give  great  beauty  to  the  city, 
and  are  far  superior  to  the  monuments  in  London. 
They  all  have  some  great  historic  interest,  and  com- 
memorate events  which  are  interwoven  with  the  most 
terrible  scenes  in  the  history  of  the  nation.  On  these 
monuments,  and  on  all  the  palaces,  churches,  and  pub- 
lic buildings  of  Paris,  are  the  words  which  compose 
the  great  national  lie  —  ^'■Liberte^  EgaliU^  Fraternite" 
No  sentiment  could  contain  a  greater  falsehood.  The 
French  have  less  true,  genuine  liberty  than  under  the 
reign  of  the  Bourbons.  There  are  more  slaves  to-day, 
in  France,  under  Louis  Napoleon,  than  there  were  un- 
der Louis  Philippe.  Liberty  means  universal  license ; 
equality  consists  in  universal  want,  an  equality  in  deg- 
radation ;  fraternity  means  a  brotherhood  of  anarchists, 
such  as,  years  ago,  shouted  along  the  streets  of  Paris, 
with  trunkless  heads  on  gory  pikes.  The  French  re- 
public is  a  military  despotism.  The  streets  of  Paris 
are  full  of  soldiers,  dressed  in  uncomely  uniform,  who 
march  through  the  crowded  streets,  and  across  the 
25  Q 


194  EUROPA. 

pleasure  grounds,  to  overawe  the  people.  The  bayonet, 
and  not  the  ballot-box,  rules ;  and  Louis  XVI.  was  no 
greater  tyrant  than  is  Louis  Napoleon.  I  do  not  see 
how  we  can  cherish  for  a  moment  any  hope  of  the  per- 
manence of  the  French  government.  All  the  glory  is 
in  the  name,  while  the  people  cannot  appreciate,  do  not 
desire,  and  have  not  a  genuine  republic.  There  are 
said  to  be  one  hundred  thousand  soldiers  within  call  of 
the  president,  and  present  appearances  seem  to  indicate 
that  he  will  soon  have  need  of  them. 

A  trait  in  the  French  character  is  seen  in  the  .cafes, 
or  drinking  establishments,  of  the  metropolis.  The 
Frenchman  loves  his  coffee  more  than  he  does  his  wife, 
and  often  spends  more  time  in  the  cafe  than  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family.  In  the  Boulevards,  at  almost  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  evening,  may  be  seen  scores  and 
hundreds  of  men  and  women  sipping  coffee  and  eating 
ices  in  the  open  street.  In  front  of  the  saloon  are 
found  a  large  number  of  little  tables,  with  one  or  two 
chairs  to  each,  each  occupied,  while  within  and  without 
the  saloon  are  busy  waiters,  hurrying  to  and  fro,  to 
receive  orders  and  supply  the  wants  of  their  patrons. 
Sometimes  little  arbors,  on  the  most  frequented  streets, 
are  fitted  up  with  hanging  lamps ;  fountains  abound, 
and  cool  retreats,  and  hither  resort  hundreds  to  eat, 
drink,  and  enjoy.  The  enchantments  which  art  throws 
around  these  fairy  spots  render  them  the  favorite  resorts 
of  men  of  all  classes  and  conditions.  The  visitor  must 
purchase  some  article,  or  pay  two  or  three  sous  for  the 
use  of  the  chair  and  table.  Thus  the  keepers  make 
good  livings,  and  are  enabled  to  embellish  then*  prem- 
ises in  very  gorgeous  style. 

The  lowest  form  of  morals  prevails  in  Paris  to  a 
great  extent.      The  true  idea  of   public  virtue,  in  its 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS.  195 

noblest  sense,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  exist,  and  a  thou- 
sand forms  of  evil  stalk  abroad  without  reproof.  The 
marriage  tie  is  easily  broken,  and  the  obligations  of  the 
marriage  relations  are  hardly  recognized.  The  young 
Parisian  lady  considers  herself  a  slave,  under  the  sur- 
veillance of  her  parents,  until  her  marriage,  when  she 
enters  into  a  state  of  uncontrolled  liberty,  her  husband 
caring  little  for  her  affairs,  and  she  attending  but  little 
to  his  interests.  Immorality  is  sanctioned  by  law,  and 
the  corrupters  of  society  are  licensed  by  government. 
No  small  part  of  the  public  revenue  is  derived  from 
this  source ;  and  pollution  is  a  part  of  the  system,  as 
common  school  education  is  part  of  our  system.  Each 
infamous  woman  is  licensed  by  the  police  as  we  license 
cabmen  or  auctioneers,  and  carries  her  certificate  of 
shame  and  crime  in  her  pocket.  There  is  no  public 
conscience  in  relation  to  vice.  Young  men  and  women 
who  enter  upon  a  career  of  crime  seem  to  feel  that 
they  are  doing  no  evil.  In  London,  there  is  a  public 
conscience,  and  a  public  voice,  and  a  public  shame ; 
and  every  loose  woman  —  and  they  meet  you  in  the 
streets  at  night  by  scores  and  hundreds  —  bears  on  her 
countenance  the  wo-begone  proof  of  her  degradation. 
But  in  Paris,  not  a  blush  indicates  that  the  most  de- 
praved feels  ashamed  of  her  occupation,  and  crime 
wears  the  open  countenance  and  fair  cheek  of  inno- 
cence. There  are  less  outside  appearances  of  crime  in 
Paris  than  in  London,  from  the  simple  fact  that  in  the 
latter  city  vice  is  branded,  hated,  and  despised,  while  in 
the  former  city  it  is  courted,  patronized,  and  defended. 
Infanticide  prevails  to  a  fearful  extent,  and  hundreds 
of  infants  every  year  are  destroyed  by  unnatural  moth 
ers.  Almost  every  day  the  Seine  sweeps  some  infant 
body  down  out  of  the  sight  of  those  who  gave  it  being. 


196  EUEOPA. 

An  almost  incredible  number  of  children  are  found  and 
taken  to  the  foundling  hospitals.  In  former  times, 
connected  with  these  hospitals  was  an  open  box  in  the 
wall,  into  which  the  mother  could  come  at  night,  un- 
seen, and  put  her  babe.  As  she  rung  a  bell  near  by, 
the  box  was  drawn  in,  and  the  child  taken  out,  and  the 
name  of  the  person  who  put  it  there  remained  entirely 
unknown.  In  1833,  this  box  was  abandoned,  since 
which  time  infanticide  has  very  largely  increased,  while 
the  number  of  children  born  out  of  wedlock  has  in  no 
way  diminished.  Other  fearful  facts  might  be  given, 
corroborating  the  dreadful  prevalence  of  immorality 
and  crime ;  but  I  forbear. 

Paris  is  well  supplied  with  hospitals  and  asylums  for 
the  poor,  the  blind,  aged  ecclesiastics,  foundlings,  and 
orphans.  The  attendance  and  nursing  in  these  charita- 
ble institutions  are  performed  generally  by  the  nuns  of 
the  various  convents,  of  which  there  are  about  thirty 
in  the  city.  The  sisters  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  are 
much  admired  for  their  devotion  to  the  sick  and  the 
poor.  They  number  about  five  hundred,  and  are  al- 
ways employed  in  works  of  love  and  charity,  if  we  may 
believe  Catholic  testimony  on  the  subject.  I  can  see 
how,  in  a  great  city  like  Paris,  a  convent  may  be  a  use- 
ful institution,  and,  while  there,  learnt  to  look  upon 
these  sisters  of  charity  with  less  disgust  than  formerly ; 
and  yet  convents  may  be,  and  are  generally,  made  tre- 
mendous engines  of  evil.  Professedly  open  to  public 
inspection,  they  are,  in  fact,  closed  to  all  investigation, 
and  none  but  the  priests  of  a  corrupt  church  see  be- 
hind the  veil.  "What  horrid  crimes  are  committed  in 
them,  what  persons  are  confined  there,  what  revolting 
excesses  indulged  under  their  sanctity,  the  busy  world 
outside  knows  not ;  and,  doubtless,  many  a  convent  and 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS      197 

monastery  on  the  continent  has  witnessed  scenes  such 
as  outshine  the  crimes  which  have  been  perpetrated  in 
the  Tower  of  London  and  the  old  Bastille. 

The  population  of  Paris  is  about  eleven  hundred 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty-seven,  and  this  is 
steadily  increasing.  The  city  is  built  on  both  sides  of 
the  Seine,  which,  like  the  Thames,  is  spanned  by  several 
noble  bridges,  across  which  a  tide  of  life  is  continually 
sweeping.  There  seems  in  Paris  to  be  an  acti\ity,  a 
rapidity  of  movement,  which  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
the  character  of  any  other  nation.  The  people  walk 
faster,  talk  faster,  eat  faster,  ride  faster,  and  live  faster, 
in  all  respects,  than  do  their  English  neighbors.  The 
English  love  the  past,  and  protest  against  the  removal 
of  the  ancient  landmarks  ;  the  French  love  change, 
and  pant  for  revolutions,  and  find  enjoyment  in  scenes 
of  disorder  and  confusion.  The  English  love  law, 
and  are  strong  advocates  for  order  and  propriety ; 
the  French  have  little  respect  for  law,  and  execute 
kings  with  as  little  hesitancy  as  they  do  traitors. 
The  English  love  precedent ;  the  French  love  inno- 
vation. 

That  there  is  no  love  of  law,  no  domestic  virtue,  no 
public  honor,  is  not  true.  But  that  these  are  not  na- 
tional characteristics,  we  may  judge  from  the  successive 
revolutions,  the  murder  and  banishment  of  successive 
monarchs,  the  license  given  to  crime,  and  the  over 
whelming  influence  of  might  irrespective  of  right. 

There  exists  among  the  French  the  deepest  and  most 
inveterate  hatred  towards  the  English,  these  two  na- 
tions seeming  to  consider  themselves  "  natural  enemies:' 
This  hatred  arises  from  the  rival  position  of  the  two 
countries,  and  from  the  dreadful  wars  in  which  blood 
has  been  shed,  the  stains  of  which  are  not  yet  washed 

Q* 


198  EUROPA. 

out.  The  monuments,  triumphal  arches,  and  pillars  are 
commemorative,  to  a  considerable  extent,  of  victories 
obtained  over  each  other,  and  the  military  idols  of  each 
nation  —  Bonaparte  on  the  one  side,  and  Wellington  on 
the  other  —  obtained  victories,  each,  which  the  other 
could  look  upon  only  with  rage.  If  you  mention  the 
word  "  Waterloo  "  to  the  boys  in  the  streets  of  Paris, 
they  will  grit  their  teeth,  clinch  their  fists,  and  tell  you 
that  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  that  stain  will  be 
blotted  out,  and  the  injured  honor  of  France  vindicated. 
This  feeling,  I  was  assured,  is  prevalent  in  the  French 
army,  the  regiments  of  which  want  some  employment, 
and,  doubtless,  throat-cutting  would  be  the  most  agree- 
able. Victor  Hugo  may  poetize  in  the  chamber  of 
deputies,  and  Richard  Cobden  may  declaim  m  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  peace  conventions  may  be 
held  every  month  in  Exeter  Hall ;  but  while  this  na- 
tional prejudice  exists,  the  stream  of  blood  will  not  be 
stayed.  And  this  prejudice  is  increased  by  such  rash 
speeches  as  are  made  at  reformatory  meetings  in  Lon- 
don, in  which  one  nation  is  praised,  lauded,  and  bespat- 
tered with  compliments  to  the  discredit  of  all  others. 
England  is  a  great  nation,  but  she  is  not  the  only  great 
nation.  She  has  national  crimes  ;  nor  is  she  the  only 
nation  whose  banners  are  stained  with  guilt;  and  it 
becomes  England,  France,  and  America  to  treat  each 
other  with  candor,  forbearance,  and  justice. 

When  the  traveler  lands  in  France,  he  begins  to  find 
the  Catholic  religion  exerting  an  influence,  and  acting 
out  itself  Though  all  religions  are  tolerated,  this  swal- 
lows up  all  others ;  and  in  the  metropolis,  a  Catholic 
church  is  found  in  almost  every  street.  The  churches 
of  London  do  not  compare  with  them  in  cost,  architect- 
ural beauty,  and  splendid  adornments.    In  all  that  goes 


VIEW   OF   PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS.  199 

to  make  up  outward  show  and  dazzling  beauty,  the 
church  edifices  of  Paris  excel ;  and  it  is  no  wonder, 
when  the  poor,  ignorant  man  enters  one  of  them,  that 
imagination  steals  away  his  judgment,  and  leads  him  to 
substitute  the  outward  service  for  the  internal  love. 
The  oldest  church  in  Paris  is 

NOTRE    DAME, 

which  stands  on  the  site  of  an  ancient  Roman  temple, 
and  has  resisted  the  assault  of  nearly  ten  centuries.  It 
is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  architectural  taste  I 
ever  saw ;  but  for  the  great  purpose  of  worship,  it  is 
almost  completely  useless.  Two  towers  surmount  the 
structure,  from  which  a  fine  view  of  Paris  is  obtained, 
in  one  of  which  is  an  enormous  bell,  weighing  thirty-two 
thousand  pounds,  which  sends  out  its  iron  tone  like  the 
voice  of  a  giant.  Decay  and  neglect  are  written  all 
around,  and  the  fine  edifice  gives  many  evidences  of  the 
ruthless  assaults  of  civil  war.  As  we  entered,  a  meanly- 
clad,  dirty-faced  ecclesiastic,  with  a  brush,  stood  near. 
The  brush  he  occasionally  dipped  in  a  basin  of  water, 
keeping  it  wet,  that  the  faithful  might  use  it  to  cross 
themselves  as  they  came  in.  In  many  parts  of  the  ca- 
thedral, men  and  women  w^ere  bowing  on  the  cold  floor, 
mumbling  over  their  prayers,  and  counting  their  beads. 
One  has  an  irresistible  feeling  of  religious  veneration, 
as  he  stands  beneath  the  arches  of  such  a  structure, 
where  far  above  him  the  birds  have  built  their  nests, 
and  the  swallows  are  flying  about  with  a  mournful 
sound.  In  the  chapels  all  around  the  church  are  paint- 
ings and  statues,  to  commemorate  distinguished  events 
and  personages.  We  were  pointed  to  the  very  spot  on 
the  floor  on  which  Napoleon  stood,  when  he  was  mar- 
ried to  Josephine  by  Pope  Pius  VII.     Here,  too,  was 


200  EUROPA. 

the  very  spot  where  he  placed  the  crowns  upon  his  own 
head  and  that  of  his  imperial  consort.  In  a  marble 
vault  in  this  cathedral  lies  the  dead  body  of  the  late 
archbishop,  who  was  unfortunately  killed  in  the  last 
revolution.  He  was  an  amiable  man,  and  his  fall  was 
much  lamented.  When  blood  was  flowinsr  in  the 
streets  of  Paris,  he  went  out,  regardless  of  his  own 
safety,  to  stay  the  crimson  tide.  Wherever  he  was 
recognized  his  authority  was  respected,  and  he  moved 
from  street  to  street,  quelling  the  fury  of  the  misguided 
populace.  But  at  length,  while  climbing  over  a  barri- 
cade in  one  of  the  streets,  a  random  shot  was  fired 
which  laid  him  low.  Near  his  sarcophagus  is  a  paint- 
ing representing  his  fall.  Two  or  three  citizens,  who 
recognize  his  mild  features,  are  endeavoring  to  restrain 
the  wild  passions  of  others,  while  intense  sorrow  is  de- 
picted on  their  countenances.  The  whole  scene  is  sub- 
lime and  mournful  in  the  extreme.  Near  by  are  two  of 
the  small  bones  of  the  back,  and  the  ball  which  pene- 
trated between  them  into  the  spinal  marrow. 

One  of  the  tombs  in  this  old  edifice  is  decorated  with 
a  group  of  statuary  of  extraordinary  origin.  The  wife 
of  an  Austrian  nobleman  had  a  singular  dream.  She 
saw  her  husband  in  a  coffin,  and  engaged  in  a  fearful 
struggle  with  embodied  Death.  He  called  for  her  to 
help  him  ;  but  she  was  powerless,  and  the  monster  per- 
formed his  work.  She  awoke,  and  her  dream  was  over  ; 
but  in  a  few  days  she  learnt  that,  at  the  very  hour  of 
her  sleep,  her  husband  was  accidentally  killed.  She  had 
a  group  of  statuary  made  to  represent  her  dream  ;  and 
here  it  stands,  to  remind  every  beholder  of  his  own 
conflict  with  the  powers  of  death. 

At  Notre  Dame  are  kept  the  robes  in  which  Na- 
poleon was  crowned,  and  the  ecclesiastical  habits  in 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS.      201 

which  the  pope  was  arrayed  when  the  service  was  per- 
formed. The  former  is  a  sort  of  cape,  or  cloak,  worked 
all  over  with  gold  cord  and  lace.  The  fabric  is  of  rich 
crimson  velvet,  and  a  gorgeous  affair.  The  latter  is  a 
habit  of  crimson  velvet,  richly  worked  in  the  usual  form 
of  religious  vestments.  Here,  too,  is  the  gold  plate 
used  at  the  sacraments  which  follow  coronations,  and  a 
large  number  of  religious  dresses,  upon  which  I  gazed, 
wondering  how  John  the  Baptist  would  have  looked 
arrayed  in  such,  or  what  the  people  would  have  thought 
of  Christ,  had  he  been  bedecked  with  such  when  he 
rode  into  Jerusalem.  Should  a  priest  walk  through 
our  streets  in  similar  robes,  the  children  would  imagine 
him  some  crazy  playactor  who  had  broken  away  from 
the  stage,  and  was  wandering  out  to  secure  attention 
and  draw  patronage.  The  people  would  never  suppose 
him  to  be  a  follower  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus. 
We  cannot  judge  of  men  by  dress,  but  when  human 
beings  array  themselves  like  clowns  or  circus  riders, 
common  sense  will  find  it  hard  to  recognize  in  them 
the  distinguishing  features  of  the  teachers  of  religion. 
As  I  walked  about  in  this  old  cathedral,  I  began  to 
dream.  The  past,  the  dreadful  past,  seemed  to  come 
rushing  back.  In  imagination,  I  was  in  the  National 
Convention.  I  saw  the  bishops  and  clergy  with  uncov- 
ered heads  ascend  the  tribune,  and  abjure  the  religion 
of  the  Savior,  and  cast  away  with  contempt  the  em- 
blems of  their  sacred  office.  I  heard  the  hoarse  voice 
of  Hebert,  declaring  that  God  did  not  exist,  and  call- 
ing on  all  men  to  dethrone  him.  I  saw  a  wanton 
prostitute  led  forward  by  a  bishop,  and  introduced  as 
the  Goddess  of  Reason,  and  in  my  ear  sounded  a  shout 
which  seemed  like  that  of  rebel  angels  when  they 
endeavored  to  overturn  the  throne  of  God.  Out 
26 


202  EUROPA. 

sweeps  that  throng  from  the  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
across  the  Place  cle  Eevolution,  by  the  Tuileries,  on  to 
the  Church  of  Notre  Dame.  In  the  midst,  in  a  splen- 
did chariot,  rides  the  harlot,  the  goddess  of  blood- 
drunken  France.  They  enter  the  church  ;  they  throng 
its  aisles,  and  fill  its  spacious  nave.  On  the  altar,  the 
woman  takes  her  seat,  and  her  reign  commences. 
Scenes  of  crime  and  shame  are  witnessed  over  the 
very  ashes  of  the  dead.  The  altar  itself,  from  which 
the  sacred  articles  have  scarcely  been  removed,  is  made 
the  theater  of  unbounded  license.  Lust  and  beauty 
reign  where  once  grave  old  friars  and  sable  monks 
chanted  songs  to  God,  and  the  very  arches  ring  with 
the  sounds  of  vice  and  crime.  Hell  is  let  loose,  and 
Death  reigns  in  the  very  courts  of  life.  My  dream 
ends,  and  I  awake  only  to  hear  a  priest  saving  over  his 
prayers  before  one  of  the  altars,  and  find  that  Notre 
Dame  is  almost  empty ;  that  the  Goddess  of  Keason 
has  been  dethroned,  and  the  revolution  lives  only  in 
the  memory  of  the  past. 

The  next  church  to  which  we  pursue  our  way  is 

THE     MADELEINE, 

a  costly  and  elegant  structure,  near  the  western  termi- 
nation of  the  Boulevards.  I  have  seen  larger  churches, 
but  I  never  saw  one  more  gorgeous  than  this.  It  was 
commenced  in  1796,  and  finished  and  dedicated  during 
the  reign  of  the  late  king.  It  is  built  in  the  Grecian 
style  of  architecture,  and  cost  the  immense  sum  of  thir- 
teen million  and  seventy-nine  thousand  francs,  or  more 
than  two  million  six  hundred  thousand  dollars.  It  is 
three  hundred  and  twenty-eight  feet  long,  and  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-eight  feet  wide.  It  is  surrounded 
by  Corinthian  pillars  about  fifty  feet  high  and  sixteen 


VIEW   OF  TARIS  —  CHURCHES  —  CHAPELS.  203 

and  a  half  in  circumference.  Colossal  statues  orna- 
ment the  building  without,  and  rich  sculpture  and 
elegant  carving  mark  it  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
churches  of  France.  On  entering  the  church,  a  splen- 
dor dazzles  and  bewilders.  The  deep  tones  of  the 
organ,  the  gold  and  glitter  of  the  temple,  the  long 
train  of  priests,  and  the  multitude  of  apparently  de- 
vout worshipers,  produce  a  profound  impression  upon 
the  mind.  Nothing  can  surpass  the  elegance  and  rich- 
ness of  the  whole  interior,  from  the  painted  ceiling  to 
the  marble  pavement,  from  the  grand  altar  to  the  spa- 
cious vestibule.  I  frequently  wandered  into  this  church 
to  attend  the  service,  which  is  held  every  evening,  and 
of  which  I  could  not  understand  a  single  intelligible 
sentence.  Rich  music  and  solemn  chants,  and  some- 
times a  short  discourse,  to  which  thousands  listened 
with  attention,  filled  up  an  hour  which  certainly  might 
have  been  spent  by  many  in  a  worse  employment.  And 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  the  mind  can  be  carried  away,  de- 
luded by  the  show  and  glitter  of  such  a  service.  A 
religion  which  has  its  splendid  temples  and  its  peal- 
ing organs,  its  richly-wrought  robes  and  its  decorated 
j)riests,  which  utters  its  appeals  to  the  passions  and  the 
imagination,  has  here  erected  its  throne.  Wealth,  art, 
science,  skill,  labor,  luxury,  and  taste  have  here  con- 
spired to  erect  a  temple  which,  untenanted,  has  power 
to  excite  wonder  and  create  an  impression  of  awe. 

THE    PANTHEON, 

a  magnificent  church,  was  built  by  money  obtained  by 
lottery,  as,  indeed,  were  many  of  the  churches  of  Paris. 
This  is  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in  France,  and  is  in 
imitation  of  its  Roman  namesake,  to  some  extent.  The 
dome  is  richly  painted,  representing  some  kind  of  Popish 


204  EUROPA. 

saint-worship,  in  which  good  spirits  and  bad  figure 
in  the  same  scene,  and  are  portrayed  according  to  the 
taste  of  the  artist,  who  received  one  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  his  work.  Underneath  the  church  are  the 
vaults,  in  which  are  deposited  the  dust  of  some  of  the 
,most  noted  men  of  France.  The  bones  of  Rousseau 
and  Voltaire  are  here  —  their  mischief  all  done,  and 
their  specious  errors  all  exploded.  The  famous  Marat 
was  entombed  here ;  but  the  hand  of  revolution  dug 
up  his  bones,  which  were  thrown  into  a  common  sewer ; 
and  thus  disappeared  all  that  death  left  of  a  man  whose 
name  carried  terror  to  a  trembling  nation.  From  the 
dome,  an  extensive  view  of  the  city  is  obtained.  The 
long  streets,  the  thronged  Boulevards,  the  fine  churches, 
and  the  clustering  dwellings  are  all  spread  out  before 
the  eye,  forming  a  beautiful  panorama,  such  as  is  sel- 
dom seen. 

Besides  the  above,  there  are  many  other  Catholic 
churches,  filled  with  pictures  and  images,  and  kept  in 
repair  at  an  immense  cost,  some  of  which  are  memora- 
ble as  the  scene  of  events  which  have  been  recorded  in 
history.  There  are  about  forty-two  thousand  Catholic 
priests  and  bishops  in  France,  with  convents  for  the 
Trappists,  Capuchins,  Benedictines,  and  many  others, 
who  go  about  barefoot,  or  shod  with  sandals,  like  so 
many  hermits,  who  have  dehumanized  themselves,  and 
lost  their  manhood.  There  are  several  Protestant  sects 
in  Paris,  of  whom  the  Calvinists  are  the  most  numerous. 
This  denomination  has  four  or  five  places  of  worship, 
and  about  double  the  number  of  ministers.  The  min- 
isters are  unlike  in  religious  opinion,  and  preach  in 
different  churches  every  Sabbath.  The  people  follow 
them  from  church  to  church,  no  one  holding  a  seat, 
but  securing  the  most  agreeable  situation  he  can.     I 


VIEW  OF  PARIS  — CHURCHES  — CHAPELS.      205 

went  to  the  Oratoire,  on  one  occasion,  to  hear  the  elo- 
quent M.  Coquerel.  The  house  was  full,  and  those 
who  could  judge  said  the  preacher  delivered  a  very  able 
discourse,  which  was  doubtless  the  case ;  but  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  man  was  painfully  theatrical.  The 
gestures  and  bearing  of  the  distinguished  divine  I 
could  but  contrast  with  the  appearance  of  one  of  his 
colleagues,  Adolpli  Monod,  whom  I  was  fortunate  to 
see  and  hear  on  another  occasion.  The  latter  is  not  so 
great  an  orator,  but  a  more  devout  man  ;  has  but  little 
of  the  embellishments  of  imagination,  but  much  of  the 
power  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  The  rich  and  the  noble, 
the  brilliant  and  the  gay,  fill  the  Oratoire  when  M. 
Coqueril  discourses  ;  the  humble,  the  pious,  and  the 
good  crowd  the  aisles  when  Monod  holds  up  his  cruci- 
fied Master. 

The  English  have  a  church  in  Paris ;  the  Wesley- 
ans  one  in  Kue  de  la  Concorde,  where,  one  Sabbath, 
I  preached  to  a  little  company  of  about  two  hundred, 
of  mixed  French,  English,  and  Americans.  Under  the 
present  government  of  France,  the  people  are  allowed 
full  religious  liberty.  The  Protestant  and  Catholic 
enjoy  equal  privileges,  and  the  discussion  of  religious 
truth  is  open  to  all  who  choose  to  engage  in  it. 

There  are  in  Paris  several  interesting  edifices,  which, 
like  the  Pantheon,  are  not  used  for  religious  worship, 
but  stand  to  commemorate  some  important  events.  One 
of  these  is  the 

CHAPELLE    EXPIATOIRE. 

On  entering  this  chapel,  all  that  is  mournful  in  the 
history  of  a  most  unfortunate  family  is  brought  vividly 
to  our  recollection.  When  the  French  revolution  had 
done  its  utmost,  and  the  king  and  his  noble  queen, 

R 


206  EUROPA. 

whose  only  crime  seemed  to  be  that  she  was  of  the 
house  of  Austria,  were  carried  to  the  guillotine,  and 
inhumanly  murdered,  they  were  put  into  coarse  coffins, 
and  buried  in  a  little  cemetery  belonging  to  the  church 
of  La  Madaleine.  On  the  records  of  that  church  is 
now  a  charge  like  this :  ''For  the  coffin  of  the  widow 
Capet,  seven  francs  ;  "  and  this  was  the  whole  sum  laid 
out  for  the  interment  of  the  gifted,  beautiful,  and  high- 
born queen,  whose  word  once  made  proud  nobles  trem- 
ble. With  her  husband,  she  was  placed  in  an  unhon- 
ored  grave ;  and  the  ground  was  afterwards  purchased 
by  a  stern  royalist,  who  planted  it  as  an  orchard,  that 
the  traces  of  the  graves  might  not  lead  to  a  discovery, 
fearing  that,  in  some  wild  and  terrible  moment,  the 
populace  might  dig  up  the  bones,  and  insult  even  their 
decay.  When  monarchy  was  restored,  the  ground  was 
purchased  by  government,  and  a  neat  chapel  erected  over 
the  spot  where  the  king  and  queen  were  interred.  To 
this  chapel  thousands  come  to  wonder  at  the  violence 
which  it  commemorates.  Up  to  the  present  year,  there 
has  been  one  visitor  whose  heart  must  have  bled  at  the 
very  sight  of  its  beautiful  walls,  and  in  memory  of 
the  fate  of  those  who  were  laid  beneath  it.  I  refer  to 
the  Duchess  of  Angouleme,  who,  during  the  present 
year,  (1851,)  has  been  called  from  earth.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette.  At 
the  time  of  the  murder,  she  was  but  a  child,  and,  with 
her  brother,  the  dauphin,  then  only  seven  years  old, 
was  shut  up  in  a  dark  and  gloomy  dungeon.  The  boy 
was  soon  let  out  to  a  brutal  keeper,  who  had  orders 
not  to  kill  him,  but  to  get  rid  of  him.  Hence  every 
indignity  was  heaped  upon  him.  For  a  whole  year, 
his  clothes  were  not  changed ;  and  for  six  months,  his 
bed  was  not  made.     Under  such  treatment,  the  young 


VIEW   OF  PARIS  —  CIimiCIIES  —  CHAPELS.  207 

prince  wasted  away,  and  died  in  June,  1795.  His  sister 
survived,  and  was  treated  with  brutal  violence,  until  the 
Austrian  government  induced  the  French  to  give  her 
up,  in  exchange  for  some  prisoners  of  war ;  and  she 
was  taken  to  the  court  of  Vienna,  with  a  wasted  frame 
and  a  broken  heart.  She  has  since  passed  through 
various  changes,  having  been  married,  elevated,  and  a 
second  time  driven  into  banishment,  until  now  she  has 
found  shelter  in  the  grave.  To  her,  this  chapel,  which 
marks  the  spot  where  her  parents  were  buried,  must 
have  been  an  object  of  great  interest ;  and,  every  year 
since,  she  has  been  furnished  Avith  a  bouquet  of  flowers 
from  the  spot,  over  which  she  has  wept  and  mu.sed, 
until,  entirely  withered,  she  has  cast  them  away.     The 

CHAPEL    OF    ST.    FERDINAND 

is  also  an  object  of  much  interest.  It  was  erected  to 
commemorate  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who 
came  to  an  untimely  end  in  1842.  He  was  out,  riding 
in  his  carriage,  when  the  horses  became  unmanageable  ; 
and,  in  endeavoring  to  leap  to  the  ground,  his  foot  was 
entangled,  and,  being  precipitated  to  the  earth,  his  skull 
was  fractured.  He  was  taken  and  carried  into  a  gro- 
cery on  the  spot  where  the  chapel  now  stands.  His 
father,  Louis  Philippe,  and  the  other  members  of  the 
royal  family,  were  soon  on  the  ground  ;  but  the  unfor- 
tunate young  man  died  in  a  few  hours  after.  The  old 
grocery  was  taken  down,  and  a  chapel,  dedicated  to  St. 
Ferdinand,  was  erected  on  the  spot.  The  chapel  has 
seats  for  about  fifty  persons,  and  is  fifty  feet  long,  built 
in  Gothic  style.  Opposite  the  doorway  is  the  altar,  and 
over  it  a  statue  of  the  Virgin  and  Child.  On  the  left 
side  of  the  chapel  is  another  altar.  On  the  right  is  a 
beautiful  group  of  statuary,  representing  the  prince  on 


208  EUROPA. 

his  death  bed,  with  an  angel  kneeling  over  him.  This 
angel  was  the  work  of  the  Princess  Marie,  the  deceased 
sister  of  the  duke,  who  little  dreamed  that  she  was 
fashioning  the  marble  for  the  monumental  tomb  of  her 
brother.  Behind  the  altar  is  the  little  room  in  which 
the  prince  died,  remaining  nearly  as  at  that  time,  A 
few  rough  chairs,  a  confessional  and  crucifix,  constitute 
the  only  furniture.  On  one  side  is  a  mournful  picture 
representing  the  death  scene  as  it  actually  occurred. 
The  duke  is  stretched  upon  a  bed,  pale  and  bleeding. 
The  king  holds  his  hands,  with  a  countenance  full  of 
the  deepest  grief;  the  queen  and  many  of  the  nobles 
are  looking  on  or  weeping  in  the  most  abject  sorrow ; 
while  a  robed  priest,  with  a  benign  countenance,  adds 
to  the  effect  of  the  scene. 

The  Duke  of  Orleans  was  very  popular  with  the 
people,  and  had  he  been  alive  his  father  would  hardly 
have  been  driven  from  his  throne  in  the  late  revolu- 
tion ;  or  if  this  had  been  the  case,  his  son  would  have 
been  allowed  to  assume  the  reins  of  government  with- 
out resistance.  The  next  son  of  the  king  was  as  un- 
popular as  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  beloved ;  and 
when  the  tide  of  anarchy  came  surging  against  the 
throne  of  Louis  Philippe,  he  had  no  one  to  roll  it  back 
again.  The  son  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  the  Count  of 
Paris,  is  still  alive ;  and  if  ever  the  tide  turns  again  in 
favor  of  monarchy,  as  it  surely  will,  the  count,  who  is 
now  but  a  child,  wHl  be  the  most  likely  to  ascend  the 
throne.  He  is  said  to  be  a  boy  of  good  parts,  an  amia- 
ble disposition,  but  somewhat  destitute  of  energy  and 
decision.  God  grant  that  the  time  may  not  soon  come 
when  France,  and  gay,  beautiful  Paris  shall  be  again 
deluged  with  blood. 


PARISIAN  LIFE.  209 


XVII. 

PARISIAN   LIFE. 

One  cannot  fail  to  observe  that  the  Parisians  are 
very  much  devoted  to  light  amusements.  The  evidence 
of  this  fact  meets  you  at  every  corner,  and  in  every 
great  gathering.  These  amusements  are  generally  of 
the  lightest  and  most  trivial  kinds  ;  and  however  de- 
voted an  Englishman  or  an  American  might  be  to 
pleasure,  he  would  soon  tire  and  weary  himself  with 
the  vain  and  foolish  sports  which  engross  so  much  of 
the  time  of  the  middle  and  lower  classes  of  Paris.  The 
great  pleasure  grounds  are  the 

CHAMPS    ELYSEES, 

a  fine  promenade,  striking  west  from  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde one  and  a  quarter  miles,  laid  out  with  foot  and 
carriage  paths,  and  forming  a  beautiful  resort  for  the 
gay  and  fashionable  crowds,  who  sit  and  walk  by  hours, 
hearing  sweet  music,  and  witnessing  gay  scenes.  Trees 
finely  trimmed,  and  hedges  carefully  trained,  give  shel- 
ter from  the  sun,  while  thousands  of  chairs  and  benches 
furnish  seats  when  the  people  are  weary.  These 
grounds  are  let  for  panorama  and  other  exhibitions, 
from  which  an  income  is  derived  of  about  twenty  thou- 
sand francs  per  annum.  On  the  afternoon  or  evening 
of  any  pleasant  day,  thousands  of  persons  are  seen  mov- 
ing about  under  the  trees,  or  resting  themselves  on  the 
benches,  or  enjoying  some  of  the  sports  of  the  place 
27  R* 


21 .  EUROPA. 

and  occasion.  On  Sabbath  day,  the  crowd  swells  to  tens 
of  thousands,  and,  in  holiday  attire,  move  about  with- 
out the  least  noise  or  confusion.  The  appearance  of 
these  grounds  is  much  like  the  appearance  of  one  of 
our  muster  fields,  but  without  the  confusion  and  noise 
of  the  latter.  Let  me  describe  the  Champs  Elysees,  as 
I  first  saw  them.  Approaching  by  the  Rue  St.  Honore, 
the  grounds  presented  themselves  to  my  sight,  filled 
with  fifty  thousand  persons.  All  kinds  of  amusements 
seemed  to  be  in  progress.  Beneath  the  trees,  young 
men,  in  large  numbers,  were  engaged  in  the  various 
games  calculated  to  give  strength  and  vigor  to  the 
muscular  system.  On  both  sides  of  the  Avenue  de 
Neuilly,  which  is  twelve  feet  wide,  and  paved  with 
bitumen,  were  pavilions,  richly  decorated  and  finely 
illuminated,  radiant  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow, 
and  flowing  with  banners,  ribins,  pennants,  and  laces. 
These  were  open  on  one  side,  and  filled  Avith  singers. 
In  front  Avere  about  one  hundred  tables,  with  two 
chairs  to  each.  The  whole  was  enclosed  with  ropes, 
without  which  stood  thousands  looking  on  and  listen- 
ing to  the  fine  singing  and  music.  Any  person  was 
allowed  to  go  in,  and  sit  down  on  the  chairs,  and  use 
the  tables,  without  charge,  but  was  expected  to  order 
wine  and  refreshments.  Husbands  and  wives,  lovers 
and  ladies,  parents  and  children,  were  here  sipping 
wine  and  eating  ices,  and  enjoying  the  occasion.  The 
singers  were  dressed  in  the  hight  of  French  fashion, 
gesticulated  with  French  vehemence,  and  drew  shouts 
of  applause  from  French  auditors.  On  one  occasion, 
seeing  other  people  entering  the  enclosure,  a  friend  and 
myself  took  our  seats  with  the  rest.  Soon  a  waiter 
came,  and  asked  us,  in  indifierent  English,  what  we 
would  have.     We  told  him  we  did  not  wish  to  drink, 


PARISIAN  LITE.  211 

and,  perhaps,  were  not  allowed  to  retain  our  seats  with- 
out doing  so.  He  replied,  "  Well,  nobody  don't  never 
come  here  that  don't  take  nothing."  This  was  suffi- 
cient, and  we  moved  away.  The  proprietor  of  the  caft 
hires  these  singers,  and  secures  his  remuneration  by  the 
free  drinking  of  the  people.  A  little  farther  on,  a  few 
young  men  and  women  were  playing  on  violins  and 
harps.  They  were  gathered  around  several  candles, 
which  were  set  in  the  ground.  Now  and  then,  a  few 
sous  were  thrown  to  them,  which  they  eagerly  gathered 
up.  In  one  place  was  a  blind  fiddler,  scraping  with  all 
his  might,  and  near  by  him  a  man  with  some  dancing- 
dogs,  while  learned  goats  were  giving  an  exhibition  in 
another  direction.  All  forms  of  gambling  were  seen. 
Children  were  gambling  for  cakes  of  gingerbread  and 
candy ;  women,  for  combs,  and  little  articles  of  toilet 
use ;  men,  for  articles  of  greater  value.  Wooden  horses, 
cradles,  and  ships  turned  by  a  wheel;  fandangoes,  of 
immense  size ;  and  a  hundred  other  devices  to  secure 
money  or  mirth.  Moving  up  and  down  the  walks,  or 
engaged  in  sport,  are  crowds  of  fresh-looking,  gay, 
fashionable  people,  on  whose  countenances  not  a  trace 
of  care  may  be  seen.  There  is  no  noise,  no  disorder, 
no  quarreling,  no  drunkenness,  but  all  is  as  quiet  as 
the  streets  of  Boston  on  Sunday. 

Bounding  these  grounds  are  buildings  of  more  per- 
manent character,  designed  for  those  kinds  of  exhibi- 
tions which  cannot  be  held  in  the  open  air ;  and,  when 
the  walks  are  deserted  in  the  wet  and  lowering  day, 
these  halls  of  mirth  may  be  found  densely  crowded. 
How  this  scene  of  gayety  is  kept  up  week  after  week, 
and  year  after  year,  seems  a  mystery.  Two  or  three 
visits  are  enough  for  the  steady  Englishman,  and  he 
turns  from  it  with  disgust.     In  London  or  New  York, 


212  EUKOPA. 

such  an  exhibition  could  not  be  sustained  a  year ;  and 
yet  the  volatile  French  enjoy  it ;  and  in  those  fields 
may  be  found  the  people  of  Paris  without  distinction 
of  rank,  from  the  poetic  Lamartine,  the  brave  Cavai- 
gnac,  and  that  prince  of  fashion,  Count  d'Orsay,  down 
to  the  working  men  and  women  of  the  lowest  orders. 
Down  through  Avenue  de  Neuilly  dashes  the  chariot 
of  the  republican  president,  and  anon  rolls  after  it 
the  coupe  of  the  grisette.  Ledru  Rollin  and  M.  de 
Girardin  walk  cosily  arm  in  arm,  talking  over  the 
politics  of  the  nation,  while  by  them  sweeps  the  tide 
of  life,  or  round  them  whirls  the  vortex  of  human 
beings,  bent  on  pleasure,  and  caring  not  who  rules 
or  ruins. 

The  French  live  much  in  the  open  air.  In  the  city, 
they  throng  the  public  walks  and  gardens  ;  and  in  the 
country,  they  cultivate  the  fields,  and  women  perform 
much  manual  labor.  I  had  often  read  of  the  part 
taken  in  the  various  revolutions  by  the  women  of 
Paris ;  but  I  never  could  understand  it.  I  had  read 
of  that  mob  of  women  which  swept  out  to  Versailles, 
and  back  again  to  Paris,  controlling  the  army,  overaw- 
ing the  populace,  judging  the  king,  and  overturning 
the  government,  but  was  always  at  a  loss  to  understand 
the  secret.  But  a  brief  residence  in  Paris  explains  the 
w^hole.  The  lower  class  of  women  in  France  are  ac- 
customed to  all  kinds  of  hardship,  and  have  unsexed 
themselves  by  the  constant  performance  of  rough  out- 
of-door  duties  ;  and,  by  contact  with  coarse,  uncouth 
men,  they  become  as  masculine,  brazen,  and  bold  as  the 
soldiers  in  the  army.  Wandering  through  their  pleas- 
ure grounds,  they  present  a  gay  and  pleasing  spectacle, 
with  the  sparkling  black  eye,  and  the  frank,  open  coun- 
tenance ;  but,  when  aroused  and  maddened  by  revenge 


PARISIAN  LITE.  213 

or  want,  they  enter  into  scenes  of  disturbance  with  as 
much  readiness  as  their  lovers  and  husbands.  A 
young  man,  a  graduate  of  one  of  our  universities, 
went  to  Paris  to  perfect  himself  in  the  science  of 
medicine,  to  which  he  had  devoted  himself.  While 
there,  he  became  acquainted  with  a  pretty,  agreeable 
young  woman,  who  drew  his  attention  and  engaged  his 
affections.  They  were  married,  and  she  returned  with 
him  to  America.  He  established  himself  in  his  pro- 
fession in  one  of  our  quiet  towns,  and  commenced  at 
once  a  good  practice.  But  his  wife  has  been  to  him 
a  continual  plague.  She  persists  in  cultivating  the 
gardens,  grooming  his  horse,  managing  the  affairs  of 
his  stable,  and  entirely  refuses  to  attend  to  the  appro- 
priate duties  of  woman  in  her  family.  For  a  while, 
the  husband  resisted  this  wayward  inclination,  but  in 
vain ;  and  he  at  last  surrendered,  and  now  she  has  her 
own  way,  to  his  great  grief  and  mortification.  Of 
such  women  was  that  mob  composed  which  accom- 
panied the  beautiful  Marie  Antoinette  from  Versailles 
to  Paris,  holding  up  to  the  window  of  her  carriage  the 
trunkless  heads  of  her  faithful  servants,  who  had  been 
slain  in  her  defence. 

THE    HIPPODROME 

is  another  place  of  fashionable  resort  for  the  Parisians. 
This  is  an  immense  structure  without  the  city,  built 
in  Moorish  style,  of  an  oval  form,  three  hundred  and 
eighty  feet  in  diameter,  and  capable  of  seating  ten 
thousand  persons.  Several  times  a  week,  this  place 
is  open  for  equestrian  pfcrformaiii.es,  auu  hithc:  thou- 
sands resort  to  witness  feats  of  agility  and  strength. 
We  wandered  in,  one  afternoon,  while  a  balloon  was 


214  EUROPA. 

being  inflated,  which,  shortly  after,  made  a  fine  ascen 
sion,  carrying  up  seven  men  in  gallant  style.  While 
preparations  were  made  for  the  ascension,  the  people 
were  amused  by  several  performances  in  chariot  riding, 
after  the  old  Roman  style,  which  was  free  from  much 
that  is  so  offensive  to  correct  morals  in  such  exhibi- 
tions in  America.  The  disposition  for  amusement  may 
be  judged  by  the  fact  that,  though  this  building  is  open 
nearly  all  the  year,  it  always  finds  an  audience  brilliant, 
fashionable,  and  numerous. 

There  are  also  a  great  variety  of  amusements  of  all 
kinds.  The  theaters  furnish  a  resort  for  thirty  or  forty 
thousand  persons  every  evening,  while  concerts,  balls, 
and  public  gardens  are  all  well  patronized.  The  public 
gardens  in  Paris  are  far  more  objectionable  than  those 
in  London,  and  respectable  ladies  seldom  enter  them. 
They  are  very  attractive  in  their  arrangements  and  dec- 
orations, and  perhaps  a  \isit  to  one  of  them  gives  a 
more  correct  view  of  one  form  of  Parisian  life  than 
can  be  obtained  from  any  other  source.  I  wandered, 
one  night,  with  my  two  clerical  companions,  into 

THE  CHATEAU  DES  FLEURS, 

which  is  a  few  acres  of  ground,  profusely  ornamented, 
and  realizing  the  schoolboy's  idea  of  a  fairy  grotto. 
Walks  are  neatly  laid  out,  flowers  and  shrubbery  are 
delightfully  arranged,  fountains  are  glistening  in  the 
gaslight,  and  the  whole  garden  seems  alive  with  joy. 
The  trees  are  hung  with  colored  lights,  the  grass  is 
twinkling  with  little  Chinese  lanterns,  sweet  flowers  are 
blooiiiiug  ttii' aiouiiu,  "and  wreaths  and  festoons  seem 
ready  to  fall  upon  the  head  of  beauty.  In  one  corner 
are  saloons  for  billiard  tables ;  near  by  are  refreshment 


PARISIAN  LIPE.  215 

rooms ;  in  one  corner  are  arrangements  for  shooting ; 
at  a  distance  is  a  beautiful  little  grove,  in  which  sits  a 
fortune-teller,  to  reveal  the  mysterious  destiny  of  those 
who  are  foolish  enough  to  pay  their  money  for  such  an 
object.  In  the  center  is  an  open  space  for  dancing. 
The  earth  is  hard  and  level,  and  seems  well  fitted  for 
the  purpose.  A  large  orchestra  is  on  a  beautiful  stand, 
back  of  this  open  space,  discoursing  sweet  music.  Here 
the  young  men  and  women  of  Paris  come  to  spend  their 
evenings  in  gambling,  eating,  or  dancing.  Though  ter- 
ribly destructive  to  morals  as  these  places  must  from 
necessity  be,  they  are,  doubtless,  less  poisonous  to  so- 
ciety than  the  low  dances  which  are  held  in  our  large 
cities.  While  there  is  much  to  intoxicate  the  passions, 
steal  away  the  senses,  and  bewilder  reason,  there  is 
also  much  to  please  the  imagination  and  satisfy  an 
innate  love  of  the  beautiful ;  while,  in  the  dances 
among  us,  there  is  lust  without  beauty,  and  vice  with- 
out taste.  Every  appeal  is  made  to  the  lowest  appe- 
tites and  propensities  of  our  fallen  nature,  and  not 
one  effort  made  to  please  the  judgment  or  improve 
the  taste. 

All  the  public  gardens  and  pleasures  of  Paris  are 
under  the  strict  attention  of  the  police,  who,  without 
uniform,  are  moving  about  in  all  directions.  The  least 
signs  of  indecorum  will  secure  their  interference;  and 
such  is  the  influence  of  this  body  of  men,  that,  in  all 
the  time  I  remained  in  Paris,  I  did  not  observe  one 
single  instance  of  that  loose,  vulgar  rowdyism  which 
is  so  noticeable  in  England  and  America.  There  were 
no  gatherings  on  corners  of  the  streets,  no  disputes 
along  the  Boulevards,  and,  though  the  streets  and 
pleasure  grounds  were  thronged,  none  seemed  to  be 


216  EUROPA. 

disposed  to  disorder  and  contention.  On  the  counte- 
nances of  the  living,  moving  mass  seemed  to  be  the 
most  determined  good  nature ;  and  though  I  have  been 
in  the  streets  at  almost  all  hours,  yet  I  did  not  see  a 
drunken  man  or  a  disorderly  person  during  my  whole 
stay  in  that  delightful  city.  The  most  charming  order 
seemed  to  prevail,  not  only  in  open  sunlight,  but  in 
the  dim  and  dismal  night. 


OBJECTS  OE  INTEREST  IN  PARIS  217 


XVIII. 

OBJECTS  OF  INTEREST  IN  PARIS. 

The  finest  view  of  Paris,  and  I  think  the  finest  view 
of  any  city  I  ever  took,  was  from  the  top  of 

THE   TRIUMPHAL   ARCH, 

situated  on  an  elevated  ground,  overlooking  the  city. 
It  was  commenced  by  Napoleon,  and  completed  in 
1836,  at  a  cost  of  more  than  ten  million  francs.  It 
consists  of  a  grand  central  arch,  ninety  feet  high  and 
forty-five  feet  wide,  through  which  passes  a  traverse 
arch,  scarcely  less  bold  and  magnificent  in  its  propor- 
tions. The  monument  rises  to  a  hight  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty-two  feet,  and  sinks  its  solid  stone  foundation 
twenty-five  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The 
piers  and  the  entablature  are  richly  ornamented  with 
carved  stone  work,  and  form  one  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cent triumphal  arches  in  the  world.  The  ascent  is  ob- 
tained by  a  flight  of  two  hundred  and  sixty-one  steps  ; 
and  when,  at  the  expense  of  weary  limbs,  it  is  reached, 
one  of  the  finest  j)i"ospects  conceivable  bursts  upon 
the  sight.  For  an  hour,  I  stood  looking  down  upon 
the  city  which  spread  out  before  me.  The  Champs 
Elysees,  with  the  spacious  avenue,  was  thronged  with 
people.  Beyond,  the  palaces  were  glistening  in  the 
sun  ;  the  Notre  Dame  and  the  Pantheon  lifted  up  large 
towers  and  domes,  like  monuments  amid  a  sea  of  habi- 
tations, the  ornamented  columns  pointing  upward,  like 
28  s 


Q\S  EUEOPA. 

the  fingers  of  a  giant ;  the  broad,  flat  roof  of  La  Mada- 
leine  stretched  out  like  a  plain  ;  while  all  around,  a 
beautiful  country  was  spread  in  every  direction.  I 
have  stood  upon  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  in  London, 
and  St.  Peter's,  in  Pome ;  but  I  do  not  remember  a 
finer  view  than  that  which  is  obtained  from  the  top  of 
the  triumphal  arch.  The  view  from  the  dome  of  St. 
Paul's  is  destroyed  by  the  dim,  hazy  atmosphere,  and 
the  perpetual  fogs  which  hang  over  London.  That  ob- 
tained from  St.  Peter's  is  broken  by  ruins,  and  marked 
by  the  signs  of  decay  every  where  observable. 
Another  fine  view  of  Paris  is  obtained  from 

PERE    LA    CHAISE, 

the  beautiful  cemetery  north-east  of  the  city.  For  a 
long  time,  this  lovely  spot,  where  the  dead  now  sleep, 
was  the  garden  of  a  convent,  and  gloomy  friars  roamed 
where  now  reigns  the  silence  of  death.  In  1804,  it  was 
purchased  and  laid  out  as  a  burial-place,  and  is  now 
the  most  noted  cemetery  in  the  world.  I  do  not  think 
it  so  beautiful  as  Mount  Auburn  or  Laurel  Hill. 
There  is  a  crowded  appearance,  which  detracts  much 
from  its  solemn  and  mournful  aspect.  It  is  filled  with 
monuments,  chapels,  urns,  and  other  funereal  orna- 
ments. The  most  striking  feature  of  this  place  is  the 
great  number  of  little  chapels,  erected  over  different 
graves,  large  enough  to  hold  two  or  three  persons,  and 
in  which  are  chairs,  an  altar,  and  a  crucifix.  To  these 
chapels  friends  repair  to  weep,  and  to  pray  for  the  souls 
of  those  whose  ashes  are  beneath.  The  tombs  are  also 
covered  with  wreaths,  flowers,  and  votive  offerings  of 
every  description.  The  long  street  leading  to  the  ceme- 
tery is  filled  with  women  and  children  braiding  wreaths 
and  making  artificial  flowers,  which  friends  purchase  as 


OBJECTS   OF  INTEREST   IN  PARIS.  219 

they  enter,  and  leave  upon  the  grave.  A  description 
of  one  of  these  monumental  chapels  will  give  a  gen- 
eral idea  of  the  whole.  The  one  which  I  sketched  was 
of  soft  sandstone,  Corinthian  architecture,  seven  feet 
long  and  four  feet  wide.  A  man  could  stand  upright 
in  it.  The  w^alls  were  thin,  and  the  door  of  iron  trel- 
lised  work,  through  which  the  interior  could  be  seen. 
It  was  furnished  with  a  chair,  a  prayer  book,  several 
pots  of  the  geranium,  a  vase  of  natural  flowers,  a  kneel- 
ing statue,  a  silver  crucifix,  a  miniature  daguerreotype, 
a  mourning  picture,  and  some  twenty-five  wreaths  of 
artificial  flowers.  A  little  table  on  which  some  of 
these  things  stood  was  covered  with  white  muslin,  and 
the  floor  neatly  spread  with  painted  carpet.  In  the 
rear,  behind  the  altar,  or  table,  was  a  small  stained 
glass  window ;  and  the  whole  structure  was  neat  and 
beautiful.  The  cemetery,  which  has  about  one  hun- 
dred acres,  is  filled  up  with  chapels  and  monuments, 
beneath  which  sleep  in  death  many  who  were  once 
loved  and  honored  in  life.  One  of  the  most  conspic- 
uous monuments  here  is  that  of  the  two  lovers,  Abe- 
lard  and  Heloise,  whose  story  is  better  known  to  all 
the  ladies  than  it  is  to  me.  It  is  built  out  of  the  mate- 
rials of  the  abbey  which  was  founded  by  Abelard,  and 
of  which  his  unfortunate  companion  was  the  first  ab- 
bess. No  stranger  goes  to  that  cemetery  without  in- 
quiring for  this  remarkable  tomb,  and  none  turn  from 
it  without  an  expression  of  pity  for  the  fate  of  those 
whose  death  it  is  designed  to  commemorate. 

The  burial-place  of  Marshal  Ney,  whose  only  crime 
was  that  he  loved  his  country  too  well,  is  here.  After 
having  fought  the  battles  and  avenged  the  wrongs  of 
France,  he  was  condemned  and  shot  as  a  traitor ;  and 
his  ashes  are  here,  without  a  monument.    An  iron  fence 


220  EUROPA. 

encloses  the  spot  where  he  sleeps,  and  on  one  of  the 
rails  an  old  soldier  has  scratched  with  his  sword  the 
three  letters  of  his  name  ;  and  this  is  the  only  inscrip- 
tion which  marks  his  resting-place.  As  I  stood  over 
that  plain  grave,  the  dim  past  came  rushing  through 
my  mind.  The  storm  of  battle  again  raged  upon  the 
eaTth.  The  solid  ground  shook  with  the  clash  of 
arms  and  the  tramp  of  thousands.  I  was  at  Fried- 
land,  and  Borodino,  and  Waterloo,  and  saw  the  magnif- 
icent column  of  Ney  advancing  to  the  terrible  charge, 
pressing  into  the  smoke  and  tumult  of  the  battle,  often 
repulsed,  torn,  and  mangled,  but  at  last  victorious.  I 
heard  Napoleon  call  him  the  "  bravest  of  the  brave," 
and  saw  him  rush  where  death  and  danger  were  to  be 
braved.  The  scene  changes,  and  the  battle  is  over. 
One  man  is  led  out  to  die.  His  step  is  firm  and  his 
head  erect.  With  a  noble  declaration  of  fidelity  to 
France,  he  is  shot  to  appease  the  clamors  of  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  the  present  idol  of  the  English  nation. 
Buried  in  a  dishonored  grave,  which  none  who  admire 
personal  courage  and  heroic  devotion  to  country  can 
visit  without  emotion,  he  sleeps,  awaiting  the  sound  of 
the  last  trumpet. 

Connected  with  the  cemetery  is  a  chapel  for  burial 
services,  capable  of  seating  about  three  hundred  per- 
sons, and  is  a  plain  stone  edifice,  without  ornaments  or 
decorations.  While  we  were  in  the  grounds,  we  saw 
an  old  man,  with  his  wife,  and  two  children,  engaged 
in  prayer  over  a  new-made  grave.  The  wind  was  play- 
ing with  his  waving  hair,  and  wafting  his  petition  up 
to  God.  A  funeral  came  in,  bearing  some  lowly  corpse 
to  its  long  home ;  and,  as  we  moved  away,  the  last 
sound  we  heard  was  the  rattling  in  of  the  earth  upon 
the  plain  and  unornamented  coifin.  There  are  about 
sixteen  thousand  tombs  in  this  cemetery. 


OBJECTS   OF  INTEREST   IN  PARIS.  221 


THE    MORGUE 

is  a  place  which  I  visited  with  much  melancholy  inter- 
est. This  is  a  plain  Doric  building  on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine,  where  dead  bodies  are  brought  to  be  recog- 
nized by  friends.  They  are  divested  of  their  clothing, 
which  is  hung  up  beside  them,  and  are  allowed  to  re- 
main three  days,  at  the  end  of  which  time  they  are 
buried.  They  are  laid  out  upon  a  brass  table,  or  plat- 
form, behind  a  glass  partition.  The  table  is  inclined, 
and  the  whole  person  may  be  viewed  by  the  spectator. 
About  three  hundred  a  year,  or  nearly  one  a  day,  are 
brought  here,  most  of  whom  are  drawn  from  the  river. 
I  went  in  to  this  sad  place  on  two  occasions.  The  first 
Hime,  it  was  emj^ty  ;  no  human  form  was  laid  out  there 
in  the  chill  of  death.  But  the  second  time,  it  was  not 
so.  Two  bodies  were  laid  out  for  inspection.  Large 
numbers  were  continually  coming  and  going,  and  an 
idle,  morbid  curiosity  seemed  to  impel  the  people  for- 
ward, and  gather  them  close  around  the  bodies.  At 
length,  a  woman  came  with  a  basket  on  her  arm.  She 
came  in  careless  and  gay,  singing  some  familiar  song, 
and  pressed  her  way  up  to  the  glass,  through  which 
she  could  see  the  bodies.  She  gazed  a  moment,  turned 
pale,  uttered  a  shriek,  and  rushed  away,  followed  by  the 
crowd.  She  had  recognized  in  the  form  of  one  of  the 
dead  men  a  husband,  brother,  or  lover,  and,  in  the  full- 
ness of  her  heart,  had  gone  away  to  weep. 

As  we  left  the  place,  the  dead-cart  came  in  with  more 
bodies.  We  could  not  tell  the  number ;  but  the  man 
who  drove  it  had  three  hats  in  his  hand,  and  the  load 
appeared  to  be  heavy. 

The  stranger  who  is  alone  in  Paris  will  have  some 
peculiar  feelings  as  he  goes  into  this  home  of  death, 

8* 


222  EUROPA. 

and  beholds  the  forms  of  the  dead  stretched  out  for 
recognition.  He  will  realize  his  own  liability  to  fall, 
stricken  by  the  hand  of  disease,  away  from  home,  and 
in  the  midst  of  strangers,  and  be  laid  out  thus,  with  no 
friend  to  come  and  recognize  him,  and  bear  him  away 
to  a  distant  burial. 

Nor  can  one  help  inquiring  as  to  the  cause  of  these 
numerous  deaths.  Did  they  faint  and  fall,  or  did  they 
cast  themselves  by  design  into  the  Seine  1  Were  they 
tired  of  life,  and  did  they  expect  to  escape  from  misery 
by  suicide  1  It  is  a  melancholy  fact  that,  in  the  midst 
of  the  gay  inhabitants  of  Paris,  suicides  are  terribly 
frequent.  Almost  every  day,  some  poor  fellow-creature 
puts  an  end  to  his  own  life,  and  goes  up  to  meet  his 
God  a  self-murderer.  The  pleasures  of  that  light  and 
glad  metropolis  do  not  make  the  people  content  with 
life ;  and  weary  of  it,  and  tired  of  its  perplexities,  and 
with  a  perverted  view  of  the  future,  they  rush  out  of 
time  into  an  eternity  of  which  they  know  but  little, 
and  for  which  they  are  not  prepared. 

THE    HOTEL    DES    INVALIDES, 

or  royal  house  for  poor  and  infirm  soldiers,  is  situated 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine.  This  admirable  charity 
was  founded  by  Louis  XIV.,  and  is  an  object  of  great 
interest.  It  is  occupied  by  soldiers  who  have  been  dis- 
abled, or  who  have  served  in  the  army  thirty  years ; 
and  of  these  there  are  now  about  three  thousand. 
They  are  well  cared  for,  well  fed  and  clothed,  all  dress- 
ing in  a  plain,  neat  uniform.  They  have  a  church, 
library,  and  all  the  other  appendages  of  such  an  insti- 
tution. We  rode  in,  passing  a  row  of  cannon,  —  the 
trophies  of  African  conquests,  —  along  by  the  barracks, 
gazing  out  upon  old  soldiers  who  were  thronged  around, 


OBJECTS   OF   INTEREST   IN  PARIS.  223 

some  minus  an  eye,  some  a  leg,  and  some  an  arm.  On 
entering,  we  found  a  company  of  Napoleon's  old  sol- 
diers drawn  up  for  review.  Some  had  legs,  and  some 
had  eyes  ;  but  the  majority  of  them  were  in  some  way 
disabled.  It  was  an  affecting  sight  to  see  these  old 
soldiers,  whose  faces  will  now  kindle  up  with  enthusi- 
asm at  the  mention  of  Waterloo,  Austerlitz,  and  Lodi. 
They  are  men  who  have  fought  under  the  eye  of  the 
emperor,  and  marched  to  deadly  battle  to  the  thunders 
of  his  artillery.  It  was  some  festival,  and  high  mass 
was  being  said  in  the  church ;  and  we  met  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Invalides,  Jerome  Bonaparte,  ex-king  of 
Westphalia,  being  escorted  in  by  a  company  of  soldiers. 
We  knew  him  at  once,  from  his  resemblance  to  Napo- 
leon —  the  cocked  hat,  the  same  countenance  and  bear- 
ing ;  and  I  almost  imagined  that  the  emperor  was 
again  among  men,  and  moving  before  me.  He  is  a 
noble-looking  man  ;  and,  as  he  moved  by,  we  uncovered 
our  heads,  which  he  perceiving,  and  probably  recog- 
nizing us  as  strangers,  very  courteously  returned  by 
removing  his  cocked  chapeau.  We  followed  on  to 
the  church,  which  is  ornamented  with  flags,  torn  and 
bloody,  which  the  French  have  taken  in  battle.  A 
few  years  ago,  there  were  three  thousand  of  these 
trophies  of  war ;  but,  on  the  entry  of  the  allied  forces 
into  Paris,  in  1814,  Joseph  Bonaparte,  ex-king  of  Spain, 
commanded  them  to  be  burnt,  that  they  might  not  fall 
into  the  hands  of  their  former  owners.  The  present 
number  is  less  ;  and  among  them  is  seen  none  taken 
from  American  ranks  ;  the  stripes  and  stars  wave  not 
amid  those  signals  of  blood  and  conquest. 

In  the  center  of  the  church,  beneath  a  dome,  is  being 
built  the  magnificent  tomb  of  the  emperor,  whose  sleep 
at  St.  Helena  has  been  broken  by  the  clamors  of  pride, 


224  EUROPA. 

and  whose  ashes  were  borne  back  to  France,  a  few  years 
ago,  in  funereal  pomp  such  as  the  workl  never  witnessed 
before ;  and  here  they  will  remain  guarded  and  wept 
over  by  the  veterans  who  have  served  under  him  in  his 
most  terrible  battles. 

The  kitchens,  dormitories,  and  dining-rooms  are  in 
excellent  order.  The  various  spacious  apartments  are 
hung  with  pictures  and  adorned  with  statues,  and  the 
whole  constitutes  one  of  the  most  interesting  objects 
which  a  stranger  can  visit  in  the  whole  city. 

THE    GOBELINS. 

The  stranger  in  Paris  will  find  great  pleasure  in  ^ds- 
iting  the  manufactory  of  ornamental  tapestry,  named 
for  one  Jean  Gobelin,  who  commenced  the  business 
some  four  or  five  centuries  ago.  He  was  succeeded  by 
several  other  private  persons,  and  the  whole  establish- 
ment at  length  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  government ; 
and  one  hundred  and  twenty  hands  are  now  employed 
in  the  manufacture  of  the  most  beautiful  fabrics  for 
the  state.  Some  of  the  pieces  of  tapestry  made  here 
require  several  years,  and  are  most  exquisite  in  their 
design  and  finish.  We  saw  it  in  all  the  various  stages 
of  progress,  and  nothing  can  exceed  the  perfection  to 
which  the  art  is  brought.  Softer  and  richer  than  the 
nicest  paintings,  these  pieces  of  tapestry  are  sent  away 
to  decorate  the  palaces  of  kings.  I  noticed  j)articu- 
larly  a  very  fine  piece  of  work  of  this  kind,  nearly  fin- 
ished. It  was  a  scene  drawn  from  the  history  of  Napo- 
leon. He  had  arrived  to  the  sad  conclusion  of  obtaining 
a  divorce  from  his  beautiful  empress  Josephine.  Actu- 
ated by  political  motives,  and  impelled  by  an  uncontrol- 
lable ambition,  he  had  already  taken  the  steps  necessary 
in  such  a  case.     A  letter  is  sent  from  one  of  Napoleor^'s 


OBJECTS   OF   INTEREST   IN  PARIS.  225 

marshals,  announcing  to  the  wife  the  plans  of  the  em- 
peror. This  tapestry  represents  Josephine  laying  the 
letter  before  her  husband,  and  appealing  to  him  to 
deny  its  contents.  The  whole  scene  is  one  of  touching 
beauty.  Josephine  is  on  her  knees  ;  the  tears  are  roll- 
ing down  her  cheeks ;  the  open  letter  is  in  her  jew- 
eled hands ;  w^liile  her  whole  countenance  bears  the 
marks  of  the  most  beautiful  grief  and  anxiety.  Napo- 
leon stands  before  her,  with  scarcely  less  of  sorrow  on 
his  own  countenance ;  and  he  turns  half  away,  to  hide 
his  feelings.  Without  the  door  are  listening  figures, 
ready  to  catch  the  words  uttered,  and  go  away  and 
spread  them  through  the  metropolis.  The  figures  are 
as  large  as  life,  and  wrought  in  a  most  jDcrfect  manner. 
One  can  hardly  gaze  upon  it  without  tears ;  and  I  no- 
ticed that  the  French  stopped  longer  before  it,  and  be- 
came more  excited  in  beholdmg  it,  than  in  viewing  any 
other  scene. 

Speaking  of  Josephine  reminds  me  that  the  house  in 
which  she  formerly  lived  still  stands  in  Rue  Victoire, 
an  object  of  interest  to  the  stranger.  Here  her  youth 
w^as  spent,  and  here  she  lived  when  a  young,  ardent 
man  became  her  lover,  and  poured  into  her  ear  the  tale 
of  his  passion.  She  was  lovely,  gentle,  and  dovelike ; 
he  was  fiery,  impetuous,  and  strong.  She  clung  to  him 
as  the  vine  clings  to  the  mighty  oak.  To  her  he  here 
unfolded  his  proud  projects  and  opened  his  great  de- 
signs, to  which  she  shook  her  head  in  silence.  Soon 
he  began  to  put  these  plans  into  execution,  and  at 
length  came  and  led  her  away  to  the  old  Cathedral  of 
Notre  Dame,  and  placed  a  crown  upon  her  head.  She 
loved  him  with  undying  and  untiring  affection;  his 
battles  she  watched  with  the  most  painful  interest; 
and  in  all  France  there  was  not  a  truer  heart  than  that 
29 


226  EUROPA. 

which  Napoleon  found,  ere  his  dream  of  conquest  com- 
menced, in  a  cottage  shaded  hy  rich  foliage,  in  a  little 
lane  in  Rue  Victoire. 

One  of  the  darkest  deeds  of  Napoleon's  history  was 
his  infamous  divorce  from  this  lovely  and  accomplished 
female.  His  overleaping  ambition  led  him  to  it.  His 
heart  was  not  alienated,  and  he  loved  Josephine  still ; 
but  he  gave  her  up  for  the  cold,  half-hearted,  superfi- 
cial Maria  Louisa,  who  deserted  him  in  his  misfortunes, 
and  lived  in  gayety  while  he  continued  in  exile. 

There  are  also  many  other  private  residences  of  much 
historical  interest,  and  many  public  buildings  which  are 
associated  in  the  mind  with  the  most  fearful  events 
which  ever  transpired  in  that  city  of  crime  and  pleas- 
ure.    These 

VESTIGES    OF    REVOLUTIONS 

are  found  in  almost  every  street,  and  each  palace  and 
public  garden  has  its  tale  of  horror  to  tell,  which 
makes  the  blood  run  cold,  and  freezes  up  the  heart 
with  dread.  In  one  place,  you  wdll  be  stopped  and 
pointed  to  the  house  in  which  Marat  met  his  terrible 
end.  As  you  see  the  guide  tremble,  you  will  ask  him 
to  relate  the  story.  He  will  tell  you  of  a  beautiful 
young  woman,  of  delicate  form  and  fair  complexion, 
who  left  her  aged  sire  one  day,  placing  on  his  table  a 
note  saying  that  she  had  gone  to  England,  should  never 
return,  and  requesting  him  to  forget  her.  On  she  wan- 
ders, towards  Paris,  in  the  lumbering  diligence.  On 
reaching  the  city,  she  repairs  to  a  hotel,  sleeps  a  while, 
and  then  wanders  out  to  purchase  a  sheath  knife.  On 
she  goes,  with  the  knife  buried  in  her  garments,  to  the 
house  of  citizen  Marat.  He  is  a  coward,  steeped  in 
blood,  and  suspects  some  treachery,  and  will  not  see 


OBJECTS   OF  INTEREST   IN  PARIS.  227 

lier.  She  retires  to  her  hotel,  and  writes  to  him  urgent 
epistles.  Of  these  he  takes  no  notice.  She  sends 
again,  telling  him  that  she  can  unfold  infamous  plots, 
and  reveal  horrid  purposes ;  but  he  is  still  afraid.  At 
length,  sick  and  tired,  he  goes  into  his  bath ;  and  his 
pursuer  knocks  at  the  door,  and  mingles  her  musical 
voice  with  the  echo.  The  guilty  Marat  hears  a  fe- 
male tone,  and  Marat  never  was  insensible  to  female 
charms.  He  cries,  "  Come  in  ;  "  and  Charlotte  Cor- 
day  stands  before  liim.  She  tells  him  of  treason ;  of 
honored  men  engaged  in  it ;  of  the  way  to  arrest  it. 
His  face  grows  pale  with  rage ;  and  he  seizes  his  pen 
to  write  the  names  of  foes  just  given  him,  declaring, 
with  an  oath,  that  they  shall  have  blood  to  drink.  As 
he  bends  over  his  paper,  Charlotte  plunges  her  knife 
deep  into  his  heart ;  and  his  purple  gore  mingles  with 
the  water  of  his  bath,  and  the  names  which  he  has 
written  are  blotted  out  with  blood.  At  once,  Paris  is 
in  arms.  The  din  of  confusion  sounds,  rings,  and 
echoes.  The  woman  surrenders  herself  into  the  hands 
of  officers,  and  is  led  to  the  revolutionary  tribunal. 
She  owns  the  horrid  crime,  and,  with  exulting  voice, 
exclaims,  "  I  killed  Marat !  He  was  a  savage  beast, 
and  his  death  will  give  repose  to  my  bleeding  country." 
She  is  doomed  to  die.  Out  goes  the  death  cart  from 
the  gloomy  prison,  and  in  it  rides  Charlotte  Corday, 
with  the  red  death  gown  on,  her  cheeks  as  fair  and 
beautiful  as  when,  a  few  days  ago,  she  left  her  distant 
home.  The  cart  stops,  and  soon  the  executioner  holds 
up  her  bleeding  head,  that  the  people  may  see  that  his 
w^ork  has  been  done  faithfully.  The  spirit  of  Charlotte 
Corday,  beautifully  misguided,  goes  chasing  the  hag- 
gard soul  of  Marat  up  to  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ. 
In  another  street  will  be  pointed  out  the  house  in 


228  EUROPA. 

which  lived  Admiral  Coligny,  who  was  slain  on  that 
terrible  night  which  preceded  St.  Bartholomew's  day. 
For  days  previous,  the  unsuspecting  Huguenots  came 
pouring  into  the  city,  filling  the  hotels,  and  thronging 
its  private  residences.  The  night  comes,  and  the  clang- 
ing bell  of  St.  Germaine  gives  the  signal,  and  the  ser- 
vants of  the  pope  are  drenching  their  swords  in  Prot- 
estant blood.  Torches  glare  on  the  night,  and  bold 
crimes  are  committed  in  the  streets.  Already  thou- 
sands have  fallen,  whole  families  butchered,  and  whole 
kindreds  swept  away.  The  noise  and  confusion  in- 
crease, and  a  vile  host  surrounds  the  hotel  of  the  ad- 
miral, the  leader  of  the  Protestants.  They  force  the 
doors  ;  the  brave  Swiss  guard  are  slain  in  the  hall ;  the 
chamber  of  the  sick  and  suffering  noble  is  invaded ; 
and  a  German  menial  passes  a  sword  through  the  body 
of  the  veteran,  and  then  gashes  the  face  and  hands. 
Below  is  heard  the  voice  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  asking, 
"  Is  it  done  1 "  The  assassins  reply  by  forcing  the  mu- 
tilated body  through  the  window,  and  hurling  it  upon 
the  pavements  below.  The  duke  wipes  the  blood  from 
the  face,  recognizes  Coligny,  and,  kicking  the  lifeless 
clay,  passes  on  to  finish  his  work.  Through  every 
street  goes  the  bloody  band,  with  white  scarfs  on  their 
arms  and  white  crosses  on  their  hats,  from  the  Louvre 
to  the  Boulevards.  All  that  day,  the  tide  of  blood 
flows ;  the  houses  are  full  of  death ;  and  the  Seine 
is  red  and  gory.  Out  goes  from  Paris  the  dreadful  in- 
telligence. The  streets  of  Rome  echo  with  shouts  of 
gladness  ;  and  the  pope  goes  to  the  cathedral,  and  cele- 
brates high  mass,  and,  from  the  high  altar  of  St.  Peter's, 
applauds  the  murderous  work. 

In  taking  another  turn,  we  stumble  upon  the  spot 
where  Princess  Lamballe,  the  unfortunate  friend  of 


OBJECTS   OF  INTEREST   IN  PARIS.  229 

Marie  Antoinette,  was  so  cruelly  murdered.  Her  only 
crime  was,  that  she  was  too  much  beloved  by  the  unfor- 
tunate queen  and  her  royal  husband.  She  is  first 
dragged  to  prison,  and  kept  a  while  —  every  day  ex- 
posed to  insult  and  scorn.  At  length,  the  thirst  for 
blood  is  so  great,  that  she  is  demanded  as  a  victim.  A 
wild  crowd  of  devils  incarnate  gather,  and  surge  along 
to  the  place  where  she  is  confined,  and  demand  that 
she  be  brought  forth.  At  the  sight  which  meets  her 
eye,  she  faints  again  and  again  ;  but  the  mob  wait  not 
long.  They  raise  her  up,  and  force  her  to  w^alk  along 
streets  which  are  filled  with  dead  bodies.  As  she  goes, 
the  fiends  catch  in  their  hands  the  blood  of  some  of 
the  poor  victims  who  are  dying  by  the  wayside,  and 
cast  it  into  her  face.  If  she  falters,  they  prick  her  side 
with  swords.  Now,  her  face  is  gashed ;  and  soon  she 
falls,  stumbling  over  a  heap  of  the  slain,  and  is  speared 
upon  the  spot.  The  clothing  is  torn  from  her  body, 
which  is  exposed  to  every  insult  that  fiendish  cruelty 
can  devise ;  and,  at  length,  one  leg  is  torn  from  the 
gory  and  gashed  body,  and  rammed  into  a  cannon, 
which  is  fired  ofi"  amid  the  shoutings  of  the  crowd. 

Almost  every  spot  in  the  city  seems  to  be  associated 
with  some  vile  scene  in  the  dim  and  dreadful  past 
This  window  is  one  from  which  some  dead  form  wa.^ 
cast,  and  that  from  which  the  first  gun,  in  some  tumult, 
was  fired.  In  this  street,  nobles  were  speared  or  shot 
down ;  and  in  that,  pavements  were  torn  up,  and  barri- 
cades formed,  to  protect  life  or  destroy  it.  Here  stood 
the  guillotine,  and  there  the  Bastille.  The  Hotel  de 
Ville  is  memorable  as  having  been  the  place  where  the 
revolution  commenced,  and  also  the  place  where  Robes- 
pierre was  taken,  after  the  fury  of  that  dreadful  period 
had  passed  away.      His  case  you  all  know ;   and  his 


230  EUROPA. 

name  is  written  in  letters  of  blood  over  the  city,  on  the 
public  buildings  and  triumphal  columns.  That  guilty 
man  aroused  a  storm  which  he  could  not  control.  He 
was  shot  in  the  very  place  w^here  he  had  reveled  in  splen- 
dor, and  died  on  the  guillotine  to  which  he  had  doomed 
so  many  of  the  unfortunate  victims.  Over  the  very 
places  where  these  terrible  scenes  once  transpired  the 
people  throng  without  any  signs  of  grief  or  sadness. 
One  would  imagine  Paris  to  be  one  of  the  most  happy 
places  in  the  world,  did  not  terrible  facts  assure  him  to 
the  reverse  of  this.  Every  thing  is  looking  glad  and 
pleasant.  The  public  streets  and  pleasure  grounds  are 
all  smiling  and  beautiful,  and  discontent  does  not  seem 
to  reign.  But  go  behind  the  curtain  ;  inquire  into  the 
real  condition  of  the  people  ;  and  you  will  scarcely  find 
a  trace  of  true  and  substantial  bliss.  England,  with 
all  her  suffering  and  vice,  has  more  true  and  solid  enjoy- 
ment by  far  than  the  gay  metropolis  of  France.  While 
I  Avas  in  Paris,  the  public  papers  chronicled  numerous 
cases  of  suicide  and  self-destruction.  One  morning,  a 
man  who  kept  a  pleasure  house  in  the  Champs  Elysees, 
dissatisfied  with  life,  arose  from  a  restless  pillow,  and 
w^nt  out  and  shot  himself  His  friends  found  him 
with  his  jaw  shot  off,  and  his  corpse  cold.  On  the 
same  morning,  on  one  of  the  trees  of  this  fairy  place 
a  poor  creature  was  found  hung.  His  body  was  cut 
down  and  carried  to  the  Morgue,  where  friends  came 
and  recognized  it.  These  instances  are  so  common, 
that  they  do  not  move  the  public  breast,  or  arouse  the 
public  conscience. 

Would  time  and  space  allow,  I  might  describe  other 
objects  of  much  interest  to  the  stranger  in  Paris.  The 
city  is  full  of  places  and  objects  of  great  historic  re- 
nown ;  and  one  may  wander  about  for  months,  meeting 


OBJECTS  OF  INTEREST  IN  PARIS.         231 

with  new  objects  of  interest  every  day.  I  might  take 
you  to  churches  filled  with  images,  pictures,  saints,  and 
devils  for  aught  I  know,  whose  walls  are  covered  with 
dim  inscriptions,  and  whose  altars  daily  smoke  with  the 
incense  of  superstition  ;  to  vast  libraries,  one  of  which 
(Bibliotheque  Royale)  numbers  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand books,  eighty  thousand  manuscripts,  four  hundred 
thousand  medals,  three  hundred  thousand  maps,  and 
one  million  engravings ;  to  cabinets  of  antique  articles, 
where  are  objects  of  great  curiosity,  such  as  the  seal  of 
Michael  Angelo,  the  iron  chair  of  King  Dagobert,  the 
shield  of  Hannibal,  the  zodiac  of  Denderah,  and  every 
namable  and  unnamable  wonder  ;  to  the  abattoirs,  those 
creations  of  Napoleon  by  which  the  health  and  comfort 
of  the  people  are  much  increased ;  to  the  Bourse,  where 
the  living  daily  throng  in  such  crowds  ;  and  to  the 
catacombs,  where  repose  the  bones  of  the  dead ;  to 
beautiful  gardens  and  fine  fountains ;  —  indeed,  to 
every  scene  of  life,  love,  and  beauty. 

While  wandering  about,  one  day,  we  fell  into  the 
studio  of  our  countryman,  Mr.  Healy,  who  was  en- 
gaged in  painting  the  great  picture  of  the  United 
States  Senate.  The  picture  represents  Webster  reply- 
ing to  Hayne,  and  is  designed  to  represent  the  scene  as 
it  occurred.  There  sit  Benton,  Calhoun,  Clay,  and 
other  noted  men.  Mr.  Webster  is  speaking,  while  in 
the  gallery  are  some  of  the  most  distinguished  men  and 
women  of  the  land,  among  whom  is  Mrs.  Webster,  then 
a  young  bride,  enjoying  the  triumph  of  her  husband. 
The  painting  was  then  unfinished,  and  I  thought  Avas 
too  stiff"  and  formal.  Mr.  Webster  was  bolt  upright, 
and  seemed  quite  lifeless.  It  has  since  been  finished, 
and  brought  to  this  country,  and  is  now  on  exhibition 
in  some  of  our  large  cities ;  but  I  have  not  seen  it. 


232  EUEOPA. 

My  criticism  may  be  unjust,  and  likely  is,  as  it  is  quite 
impossible  for  one  to  form  an  opinion  of  a  painting 
which  has  not  received  the  finishing  touch  of  the  artist. 
However,  the  fame  of  Mr.  Healy  is  so  well  established, 
that  no  injury  can  be  done  him  by  my  remarks  upon 
his  great  work. 

I  may  also  be  alone  in  this  opinion,  as  I  have  seen 
no  notice  of  the  painting,  and  do  not  pretend  to  judge 
of  an  art  of  which  I  know  so  little.  The  artist  stands 
high  in  his  profession  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlan- 
tic ;  and  if  he  has  failed,  to  any  extent,  in  the  work  of 
which  we  speak,  it  may  doubtless  be  attributed  to  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  scene  which  he  has  endeavored 
to  delineate,  which  is  not  capable  of  such  striking  ef- 
fect as  may  be  produced  in  the  painting  of  some  other 
scenes  and  objects,  such  as  the  carnage  of  battle  and 
the  strife  of  war. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     233 


XIX. 

LOUIS  NAPOLEON   AND   FRENCH  POLITICS. 

The  French  nation  presents  a  strange  spectacle  to 
the  world,  and  holds  up  an  example  which  none  would 
wish  to  imitate.  It  is  to-day  (November,  1851)  a  re- 
public. Its  supreme  magistrate  is  a  president,  who 
must  be  a  native  of  France,  more  than  thirty  years  old, 
and  is  elected  by  the  people.  The  legislature  is  the 
National  Assembly,  which  is  composed  of  several  hun- 
dreds of  members,  also  elected  by  the  suffrages  of  the 
people.  The  president  nominates  three  men,  one  of 
whom  is  chosen  by  the  Assembly  as  vice  president. 
He  also  selects  his  own  cabinet.  The  general  day  of 
election  is  the  second  Sunday  in  May,  every  fourth 
year.  The  salary  of  the  president  is  six  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  in  addition  to  which  frequent  appropria- 
tions are  made  for  the  extra  expenses  of  these  officers. 

Louis  Philippe  came  to  the  throne  of  France  in  1830, 
in  the  midst  of  the  existence  of  several  distinct  parties. 
The  Republicans  were  clamorous  for  a  democracy  ;  the 
Legitimists  for  the  restoration  of  the  elder  branch  of 
the  Bourbon  family ;  while  a  middle  class  looked  to 
the  house  of  Orleans  as  the  only  hope  of  their  blood- 
drunken  nation.  Lafayette  presented  Louis  Philippe 
as  the  representative  of  a  liberal  government ;  and  he 
was  accepted  by  the  people,  and  crowned  accordingly. 
From  the  day  of  his  coronation  up  to  the  year  1848, 
he  continued  to  reign,  his  throne  ever  surrounded  by 
30  T* 


234  EUROPA. 

traitors,  frequent  attempts  made  upon  his  life,  and 
storm  and  tempest  continually  howling  around  him. 
He  was,  on  the  whole,  a  good  king,  a  man  of  tolerable 
intellect,  with  a  good  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and 
an  instinctive  love  of  peace  and  order.  During  his 
administration,  public  buildings  were  erected,  the  arts 
flourished,  and  the  nation  was  prosperous  and  happy. 
But,  overlooking  all  these  considerations,  the  people 
thirsted  for  revolution.  Banquets  were  held,  at  which 
the  revolutionary  orators  made  violent  speeches.  Fierce 
and  angry  discussions  were  held  in  the  House  of  Depu- 
ties. Ledru  Rollin,  Lamartine,  and  Barrot,  each  with 
a  point  to  carry,  harangued  the  people.  In  February, 
the  waves  of  anarchy  began  to  dash  against  the  throne. 
Paris  was  full  of  troops ;  groups,  in  suppressed  mur- 
murs, were  heard  discussing  the  state  of  the  nation ; 
night  and  day,  soldiers,  with  drawn  swords,  were  sta- 
tioned all  over  Paris,  and  stood  in  dumb  silence,  await- 
ing they  knew  not  what.  The  people  expected  the 
overturning  of  the  throne.  They  did  not  wait  long; 
for  soon,  one  evening,  groups  were  seen  with  torches 
and  red  flags  parading  the  streets,  excited  by  their 
wild  leaders.  One  of  these  processions  reaches  the 
Hotel  of  Foreign  Afiairs,  where  a  column  of  soldiers 
is  drawn  up.  Here  a  random  shot  is  fired  —  no  one 
knows  by  whom,  or  for  what  purpose ;  but  it  com- 
menced the  revolution,  drove  Louis  Philippe  from  his 
throne,  and  changed  the  kingdom  into  a  rejDublic. 
Through  Paris  sounds  the  cry  of  terror,  that  blood 
has  been  shed ;  and  when  blood  begins  to  flow  in 
France,  no  one  knows  where  it  will  end.  The  dead 
bodies  are  gathered  up,  placed  in  a  cart,  and  hurried 
away.  Thousands  follow  with  these  terrible  trophies 
to  the  oflice  of  the  National.     Here  every  attempt  is 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     235 

made  to  inflame  the  passions  of  the  people.  The  bodies 
in  the  dead-cart  are  overhauled,  and  the  form  of  a  fe- 
male is  held  up,  all  gory  and  red,  and  inflammatory 
speeches  are  made  over  the  terrible  display.  Soon  the 
bells  are  sounding,  the  pavements  of  the  streets  are 
being  torn  up,  men  and  women  are  arming  themselves, 
and  the  revolution  is  in  progress. 

While  all  this  is  taking  place  in  the  street,  the  Tui- 
leries  has  been  filled  with  councilors.  M.  Mole,  M. 
Thiers,  M.  Guizot,  and  others  have  been  called  in  to 
consult  with  the  perplexed  king.  Louis  Philippe,  un- 
willing to  shed  blood,  hesitates ;  but  his  hesitation  is 
fatal.  While  he  listens  to  the  various  plans,  a  messen- 
ger rushes  in  to  tell  him  that  the  soldiers  are  giving 
away  their  arms  to  the  people.  The  commandant  still 
declares  that  the  revolution  can  be  stayed ;  that  one 
broadside  would  drive  back  the  masses  who  are  filling 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  Hour  after  hour  is  wasted, 
and  the  rage  of  the  people  knows  no  bounds.  At 
length,  the  king  gives  orders  to  have  the  soldiers  fire 
upon  the  mob.  But  the  old  ofln.cer  shakes  his  head,  and 
exclaims,  "  Too  late !  "  The  only  alternative  is  abdi- 
cation, and  Louis  Philippe  writes  his  withdrawal  from 
the  throne,  in  behalf  of  his  grandson,  the  Count  of 
Paris.  One  scene  follows  another  in  quick  succession. 
First,  the  king  is  seen  taking  the  arm  of  the  queen, 
and,  followed  by  members  of  the  royal  family,  passing 
out  of  a  side  door  into  a  cab  found  in  the  street,  and 
hurrying  away  into  a  returnless  exile.  Then  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans  is  seen  in  the  Chamber  of  Dep- 
uties, with  her  two  children,  pleading  for  their  rights, 
while  over  her  hangs  the  sword,  and  around  her  shout 
the  infuriated  madmen.  She"  is  the  widow  of  the  old- 
est son  of  the  Idng,  and  is  arrayed  in  mourning  yet  for 


236  EUROPA. 

the  sad  death  of  her  husband,  who  was  thrown  from 
his  carriage  and  killed  a  while  before.  She  comes  into 
the  Chamber  of  Deputies  with  the  vain  hope  of  restor- 
ing the  tottering  throne,  and  saving  for  her  son  the 
remnant  of  royalty.  As  she  approaches  the  tribune, 
she  moves  her  veil,  and  casts  her  calm  blue  eye  around 
upon  the  astonished  and  bewildered  deputies,  as  if  to 
read  her  fate  in  their  countenances.  In  one  hand  she 
leads  the  young  king,  who  has  just  been  made  sover- 
eign of  France  by  the  abdication  of  his  grandfather ; 
in  the  other  she  holds  the  hand  of  the  other  child,  the 
Duke  of  Chartres  —  two  beautiful  children,  wearing 
short,  black  jackets,  with  snow-white  collars,  and  a 
slight  regal  ornament  suspended  from  the  neck.  Mur- 
murs of  approbation  follow  her  as  she  moves  on.  Her 
pale  and  serene  look  saddens  all  hearts,  and  all  resent- 
ment and  revenge  are  banished  from  the  breasts  of  the 
members.  She  takes  her  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  tribune, 
and  utters  a  silent  but  beautiful  appeal  to  the  feelings 
of  the  deputies.  Speech  after  speech  is  made,  and  it 
seems  as  if  the  tide  is  turning  in  favor  of  monarchy, 
when  shouts  are  heard  without.  Rude  voices  clamor 
for  admittance ;  guns  are  discharged  in  the  street ;  and 
a  crowd  of  assailants  burst  into  the  Chamber.  They 
look  with  glaring  eyes  upon  the  beautiful  duchess  and 
her  children,  and  cry,  "  Why  is  she  here  1 "  The  tide 
which  had  begun  to  set  towards  royalty  begins  to  roll 
back  again.  The  deputies  grow  pale,  the  duchess  trem- 
bles, and  her  children  clap  their  hands  with  joy  at  the 
scenes  around  them.  Their  mother,  with  a  paper  in 
her  hand,  arose  to  speak  ;  but  they  would  not  hear  her, 
and  she  sat  down  in  confusion,  feeling  that  her  case  was 
hopeless.  Soon  the  chaml)er  was  full  of  wild  armed 
men,  and  the  very  tribune  was  gleaming  with  bayonets. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     237 

The  whole  scene  was  wild  beyond  description.  One 
who  witnessed  it  gives  the  following  account :  — 

"  The  people  were  heard  rushing  against  the  door  on 
the  left,  at  the  foot  of  the  tribune.  The  clash  of  arms, 
the  cries,  shouts,  questions,  and  groans  of  men,  con- 
founded together,  rang  through  the  corridors. 

"  The  hall  and  the  tribunes  sprang  up  at  a  bound. 
Men  with  outstretched  arms,  bayonets,  sabers,  bars  of 
iron,  and  torn  standards  above  their  heads,  forced  their 
way  into  the  hemicycle.  It  was  the  column  of  Captain 
Dunoyer,  swelled  by  the  Republicans  it  had  recruited 
on  its  route.  This  column  had  first  entered  the  Tuile- 
ries  pellmell  with  the  masses  of  insurgents  who  had 
invaded  the  chateau  by  all  its  entrances.  They  had 
there  saved  the  municipal  guards  and  the  soldiers  for- 
gotten in  the  retreat.  Afterwards  reaching  the  throne 
room,  the  column  had  been  there  preceded  by  Lagrange, 
the  enthusiastic  combatant  of  the  insurrections  of  Ly- 
ons and  Paris. 

"  Lagrange  held  in  his  hand  the  abdication,  which 
he  had  taken,  as  we  have  seen,  from  Marshal  Gerard  at 
the  moment  when  the  old  warrior  disj)layed  it  before 
the  people  to  disarm  them. 

"  Lagrange,  mounted  on  a  bench,  read  the  abdica- 
tion, and  then,  surveying  his  auditory  with  an  inquis- 
itive look  and  a  smile  of  disdain,  he  seemed  to  ask 
if  this  miserable  satisfaction  were  suflftcient  for  the 
blood  poured  out  for  three  days.  '  No  !  no  ! '  cried  the 
victors.  '  No  royalty,  nor  reign  ! '  '  Bravo,  friends,' 
cried  Lagrange ;  '  we  must  have  the  republic'  At 
this  word,  the  applause  broke  forth.  Orators  took  the 
very  throne  for  a  tribune.  They  mounted  it,  and  there 
proclaimed  the  abolition  of  royalty.  Captain  Dunoyer 
and  his  men  detached  one  of  the  flags  that  decorated 


238  EUROPA. 

the  dais  of  tlie  throne.  Others  imitated  them,  tore  the 
standards,  divided  the  rags,  and  made  trophies,  scarfs, 
and  cockades  of  them.  Captain  Dunoyer  rallied  around 
the  flower  of  his  men,  summoned  by  his  voice  from  the 
spectacle  of  the  destruction  of  the  chateau.  He  re- 
formed his  column,  and  cried,  '  To  the  Chamber !  Let 
us  pursue  royalty  into  the  asylum  where  its  shadow 
has  sought  refuge.' 

"  The  column  crossed  the  Seine,  and  moved  along  the 
Quay  d'Orsay,  amid  cries  of  '  Down  with  the  regency ! ' 
It  was  swelled  m  its  progress  by  those  men  whom  pop- 
ular currents  draw  in,  as  an  overflowing  river  absorbs, 
without  selection,  all  the  purity  and  impurity  upon  its 
banks.  A  butcher's  boy,  his  apron  stained  with  blood, 
brandishing  a  cutlass  in  his  hand;  a  bareheaded  and 
bald  old  man,  with  a  white  and  bristling  beard,  armed 
with  a  drawn  sword,  of  antique  fashion,  taken  from 
some  museum,  whose  guard  was  formed  by  a  loaf 
pierced  by  the  long  blade  —  a  living  model  of  the 
painter's  studio ;  other  vagabonds,  attracting  attention 
by  their  rags,  and  the  singularity  of  their  arms  and 
attire,  —  placed  themselves  at  the  head  of  the  National 
Guards  and  combatants,  like  so  many  eruptions  of  the 
volcanic  explosion  of  the  people.  Pupils  of  the  Poly- 
technic School  marched  between  these  men  and  the 
column.  They  advanced  in  double-quick  time.  The 
outposts  of  the  line  in  vain  crossed  bayonets ;  the  Re- 
publicans beat  down  the  arms  of  the  soldiers,  passed 
them,  and  perceived  the  court  carriages,  which  were 
waiting  for  the  duchess  at  the  doors  of  the  Chamber. 
They  were  afraid  that  the  supplications  and  tears  of  a 
woman  would  deprive  them  of  the  revolution. 

"  The  butcher's  boy,  knife  in  hand,  crossed  the  empty 
space  between  the  tribune  and  the  steps.     The  deputies 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     239 

fell  back  in  horror,  shielding  themselves  from  contact 
with  his  bloody  garments.  They  formed  a  denser 
group  on  the  upper  benches,  around  the  Duchess  of 
Orleans.  The  princess,  unintimidated,  took  notes  with 
a  pencil  on  her  knee.  She  was  doubtless  searching 
her  heart  for  words  that  would  best  save  her  son."  ^ 

Every  moment  the  throng  became  more  clamorous ; 
the  deputies  grew  more  inflammatory.  The  butcher's 
boy  ran  towards  the  Duchess,  crying,  "  The  spawn  of 
royalty,  we  must  make  an  end  of  them,"  but  was  held 
back  by  a  brave  son  of  old  Marshal  Soult,  who  hurled 
him  down  into  the  crowd  with  just  indignation  and  ab- 
horrence. 

At  length,  it  became  apparent  that  the  noble  woman 
could  no  longer  remain  in  safety.  The  deputies  who 
had  gathered  around  her  were  unable  any  longer  to 
save  her  from  violence,  and  she  was  forced  out  of  the 
hall,  and  left  in  the  crowd  without.  Here  she  was  sep- 
arated from  her  children,  and,  covered  with  a  veil  which 
concealed  her  countenance,  she  was  dashed  about  by 
the  swarms  of  people,  until  she  fell  against  a  glass 
door,  which  yielded,  and  she  was  borne  away  to  a  place 
of  safety.  The  little  Count  of  Paris  met  with  more 
severe  treatment.  He  was  recognized,  and  a  brawny 
man  was  about  strangling  him  in  the  streets,  when  he 
was  rescued  by  a  national  guard,  who  carried  him,  at 
the  risk  of  his  own  life,  to  his  mother.  The  Duke  of 
Chartres  fared  still  worse.  He  fell  in  the  street,  and 
was  trodden  down  by  the  mob.  Eescued  at  length,  he 
was  taken  away,  and  for  several  days  his  mother  re- 
mained without  any  knowledge  of  his  safety,  in  the 
most  distressing  anxiety. 

'  Lamartine's  History  of  the  Revolution. 


240  EUROPA. 

While  all  this  was  taking  place  at  the  seat  of  gov- 
ernment, the  king,  with  the  queen  and  their  children, 
had  fled  as  far  as  Dreux,  where  he  heard  that  his  abdi- 
cation had  not  saved  the  throne  to  his  grandson.  He 
now  began  to  fear  for  his  own  safety.  The  sad  fate 
of  Louis  XVI.  was  before  his  mind,  and  he  resolved  to 
escape  at  once  to  England.  Under  the  name  of  Theo- 
dore Lebran,  he  succeeded  in  the  attempt,  while  his 
younger  son,  the  Duke  of  Montpensier,  with  his  wife, 
a  delicate  young  woman,  fled  to  Brussels.  The  whole 
family  were  at  length  united  on  English  soil,  secure 
from  the  waves  of  popular  tumult  which  are  contin- 
ually dashing  in  France. 

After  the  exciting  scenes  which  we  have  now  de- 
scribed had  transpired,  a  provisional  government,  with 
Lamartine  at  the  head,  was  formed,  which  soon  became 
swallowed  up  in  what  has  been  termed  a  republic. 

We  now  come  to  the  time  of  Louis  Napoleon,  who 
is  the  son  of  Louis  Bonaparte,  ex-king  of  Holland. 
His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  Josephine,  the  fair 
but  frail  Hortensia  Beauharnais,  with  whom  his  father 
lived  but  a  short  time.^     He  was  thus  a  nephew  of  the 


'  The  following  account  is  given  joint  labor  of  Napoleon,  and  espe- 

of  Louis  Napoleon's  parentage  :  —  cially  Josephine,  who  artfully  accom- 

"  Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  who  plished  many  objects  by  which  she 
is  more  of  a  man  than  the  world  have  hoped  to  make  certain  her  own  posi- 
supposed,  is  the  nephew  of  the  great  tion  as  empress.  The  first  proposal 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  grandson  was  made  to  him  in  July,  1800,  short- 
of  Josephine,  his  first  wife.  This  ly  after  the  return  of  the  first  consul 
captivating  woman  had  two  children,  from  the  campaign,  one  of  the  con- 
both  by  her  first  husband  —  Eugene  flicts  of  which  was  the  battle  of  Ma- 
and  Hortense  Beauharnais.  Louis  rengo.  He  then  gave  it  a  decided 
Bonaparte,  father  of  him  who  is  now  negative.  Not  long  after,  it  was  re- 
at  the  head  of  the  French  people,  newed,  but  with  no  better  success ; 
Avas  the  third  brother  of  the  great  and  to  escape  further  importunity, 
Napoleon,  and  was  born  at  Ajaccio,  Louis  Bonaparte  made  a  tour  of  sev- 
(Corsica,)  on  the  2d  of  September,  eral  months  in  Germany. 
1778.  His  marriage  with  the  daugh-  "  In  October,  1801,  Josephine,  not 
ter  of  Josephine  was  not  his  own  at  all  discouraged  by  the  two  pre- 
choice,   but    brought  about  by  the  vious   refusals  to  comply  with  her 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FKENCH  POLITICS.     241 

great  Napoleon,  to  whose  station  he  has  so  frequently 
aspired.  He  was  made,  by  the  emperor,  Grand  Duke 
of  Berg,  but  obtained  no  distinction  as  a  warrior  or 
statesman.  His  youth  seems  to  have  been  marked  by 
nothing  which  would  entitle  him  to  any  unusual  honor, 
as  a  man  or  as  a  politician. 

He  first  presented  himself  to  the  world  in  an  insur- 
rection at  Strasbourg,  which  was  badly  planned,  and  re- 
sulted most  unfavorably.  The  garrison,  consisting  of 
several  regiments,  and  the  people,  were  enthusiastic  in 
his  favor.  But  owing  to  the  most  unskillful  general- 
ship, he  lost  his  cause.  Scarcely  a  blow  was  struck,  or 
a  gun  fired,  or  a  drop  of  blood  shed.  A  stern  royalist 
ran  in  among  his  own  soldiers,  and  declared  to  them 
that  the  person  calling  himself  Louis  Napoleon,  nephew 
of  the  emperor,  was  only  an  impostor.  They  became 
clamorous  at  once,  and  demanded  that  Louis  Napoleon 
should  prove  his  identity;  and  before  he  could  do  this,  his 
camp  was  in  complete  disorder,  and  he  was  taken  pris- 
oner. Li  this  expedition,  he  certainly  exhibited  a  want 
of  tact  and  skill,  as  well  as  self-possession  and  bravery, 
and  received,  as  he  deserved,  the  scorn  of  his  associates. 

We  next  find  him  in  an  insurrection  at  Boulogne, 

proposals,  made  a  fresh  assault  upon  sul  and  Josephine.  '  Never,'  wrote 
Louis.  One  evening,  during  a  ball  Louis,  '  was  there  a  more  gloomy 
at  Malmaison,  she  took  him  aside  ;  ceremony ;  never  had  husband  and 
Napoleon  joined  the  conference,  and  wife  a  stronger  presentiment  of  the 
after  a  long  conversation  '  they  made  bitterness  of  a  reluctant  and  ill-as- 
him  give  his  consent,'  in  the  Ian-  sorted  union.'  And  Madame  Cam- 
guage  of  Louis  himself,  and  on  the  pan,  who  was  at  a  ball  given  in  honor 
4th  of  January,  1802,  the  contract,  of  the  event,  states  that  '  every  coun- 
the  civil  marriage,  and  the  religious  tenance  beamed  with  satisfaction 
ceremony  took  place  at  the  private  save  that  of  the  bride,  whose  pro- 
residence  of  the  first  consul  in  found  melancholy  formed  a  sad  con- 
Paris.  Hortense  Beauharnais  had  trast  to  the  happiness  she  might  have 
just  left  the  celebrated  boarding  been  expected  to  evince  ;  she  seemed 
school  of  Madame  Campan,  and  had  to  shun  her  husband's  very  looks,  lest 
no  different  part  in  the  affair  than  her  he  should  read  in  hers  the  indiffer- 
husband  —  both  becoming  instru-  ence  she  felt  towards  him.'" 
ments  in  the  hands  of  the  first  con- 

31  u 


242  EUROPA. 

which  was  as  badly  managed,  and  resulted  as  disgrace- 
fully as  the  other ;  and  he  was  shut  up  by  the  French 
government  in  the  citadel  of  Ham,  where  he  remained 
until  he  was  made  president,  four  years  ago.  During 
the  existence  of  the  provisional  government,  an  effort 
was  made  to  recall  him,  and  restore  to  him  his  privi- 
leges, but  without  success.  Lamartine  himself  intro- 
duced a  decree,  which  was  adopted  by  the  National 
Assembly  almost  unanimously,  declaring  Louis  Napo- 
leon to  be  an  outlaw,  a  disturber  of  the  peace  of  the 
nation,  a  man  dangerous  to  national  honor;  and  de- 
clared his  continued  confinement  necessary  to  the  pros- 
perity of  France. 

But  when  the  election  of  president  was  ordered,  his 
name  was  mentioned,  by  partisans,  as  a  candidate.  The 
people  who  honor  the  name  and  reverence  the  memory 
of  Bonaparte,  were  carried  away  with  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing another  ruler  of  the  same  name,  and,  by  a  large 
majority,  he  was  elected  to  guide  the  ship  of  state.  In 
administering  the  affairs  of  the  government,  he  has 
been  more  successful  than  his  most  sanguine  friends 
imagined,  and  has  exhibited  some  traits  of  character 
which  none  supposed  him  to  possess.  But  an  attentive 
observer  could  not  fail  to  see  that  all  his  efforts  have 
been  tending  towards  a  centralization  of  influence,  and 
every  month  the  conviction  has  deepened,  that  he  would 
not  retire  from  office  without  an  exhibition  of  his  real 
character  and  object.  He  is  a  man  of  more  ambition 
than  common  sense,  and  has  secured  his  present  po- 
sition simply  from  the  fact  that  he  bears  a  mighty  name. 
His  virtues,  if  he  has  any,  never  would  have  given  him 
any  title  to  leadership ;  and  any  effort  which  he  might 
have  made  for  office  and  honor  would  have  been  re- 
ceived with  contempt  and  scorn. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     243 

He  is  now  in  middle  life,  and  lives  in  licentious 
splendor  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  surrounded  by  ambi- 
tious and  designing  men,  and  gay  and  beautiful  women. 
His  morals  are  said  to  be  modeled  after  French  no- 
tions of  propriety.  He  may  often  be  seen  walking  in 
his  fine  gardens,  or  dashing  in  his  carriage  through 
the  streets.  He  has  rendered  himself  somewhat  pop- 
ular by  his  speeches  at  public  meetings,  banquets,  and 
railway  openings,  and  has  proved  more  adroit  and  in- 
genious than  some  of  his  opponents.  His  reign  —  for 
by  such  a  name  will  his  administration  of  government 
be  known — has  been  as  severe  and  stern  as  that  of  Louis 
Philippe.  The  press  has  been  curbed,  the  public  voice 
has  been  hushed,  and  the  popular  will  has  not  been 
known;  During  the  last  four  years,  public  works  have 
been  stopped,  public  confidence  has  been  destroyed,  and 
the  nation  has  been  waiting  for  the  close  of  his  time 
of  office,  for  the  thunder  and  blood  of  another  revo- 
lution. That  France  is  a  republic  only  in  name,  is 
abundantly  demonstrated  by  the  refusal  of  the  presi- 
dent to  allow  our  present  distinguished  national  guest, 
M.  Kossuth,  to  land  on  French  soil. 

England  received  him  with  open  arms;  her  minis- 
ters and  statesmen  turned  out  to  welcome  him,  and  he 
marched  in  triumph  from  the  water  side  to  the  palace 
of  Westminster.  But  republican  France  ^  refused  him 
a  landing,  shut  him  out  from  the  sympathy  of  her 
people,  denied  him  the  rest  of  a  single  night,  and  sent 
him  away  to  tell  that  France  is  no  home  for  the  op- 
pressed, no  refuge  for  the  flying  patriot.     In  the  speech 

'  This  chapter,  up  to  this  point,  the  peculiar  construction  of  some  of 

was  written  previous  to  the  late  out-  the  sentences.     No  sane  man  would 

break  in  Paris,  and  ere  the  infamous  now  think  of  calling  France  a  re- 

coup  (Titat  of  Louis   Napoleon  had  public. 
been  struck.     This  will  account  for 


244  EUROPA. 

of  Kossuth,  made  to  the  members  of  the  American 
press,  at  a  banquet  given  to  him  in  New  York,  he 
holds  the  following  truthful  language,  which  will  find 
an  echo  in  the  breast  of  every  man  who  has  spent  any 
time  in  the  boasted  French  republic :  — 

"  You  know,  gentlemen,  how  the  press  is  fettered 
throughout  the  European  continent,  even,  for  the  pres- 
ent, in  France  itself,  whose  great  nation,  by  a  strange 
fate,  sees,  under  a  nominally  republican  but  centralized 
government,  all  the  glorious  fruits,  of  their  great  and 
victorious  revolutions  wasting  between  the  blasting 
fingers  of  centralized  administrative  and  legislative 
omnipotence. 

"  You  know  how  the  independent  press  of  France  is 
murdered  by  imprisonment  of  their  editors,  and  by  fees ; 
you  know  how  the  present  government  of  France  feels 
unable  to  bear  the  force  of  public  opinion  —  so  much 
that  in  the  French  republic  the  very  legitimate  shout 
of  '  Vive  la  E-epublique '  has  almost  become  a  crime. 
This  very  circumstance  is  sufficient  to  prove,  that  in 
that  glorious  land,  where  the  warm  and  noble  heart 
of  the  French  nation  throbs  with  self-confidence  and 
noble  pride,  a  new  revolution  is  an  unavoidable  neces- 
sity: It  is  a  mournful  \dew  which  the  great  French 
nation  now  presents ;  but  it  is  also  an  efficient  warning 
against  the  propensities  of  centralization,  inconsistent 
with  freedom,  because  inconsistent  with  self-govern- 
ment ;  and  it  is  also  a  source  of  hope  for  the  European 
continent,  because  we  know  that  things  in  France  can- 
not endure  thus  as  they  are.  We  know  that  to  become 
a  true  republic  is  a  necessity  for  France ;  and  thus  we 
know,  also,  that  whoever  be  the  man  who,  in  the  ap- 
proaching crisis,  will  be  honored  by  the  confidence  of 
the  French  nation,  he  will,  he  must,  be  -faithful  to  that 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     245 

great  principle  of  fraternity  towards  the  other  nations, 
which,  being  announced  by  the  French  constitution  to 
the  world,  raised  such  encouraging  but  bitterly  disap- 
pointed expectations  through  Europe's  oppressed  con- 
tinent." 

Such  had  been  the  course  of  things  up  to  the  close 
of  1851.  On  the  night  of  the  1st  of  December,  a 
public  reception  was  given  by  the  president,  w^hich  was 
attended  by  the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  Cham- 
ber and  of  the  army.  Late  at  night,  the  lamps  were 
extinguished ;  the  foes  of  Naj)oleon  departed  to  form  a 
conspiracy  against  him,  and  he  to  arrest  the  very  men 
who  were  plotting  his  downfall.  The  arrest  of  the 
generals  of  the  army  is  thus  facetiously  described :  — 

"  General  Bedeau,  whose  disposition  is  stated  to  be 
of  a  wily,  scheming,  and  '  managing '  order,  entered 
into  argument  and  discussion  ;  insisted  on  considering 
the  matter  in  a  variety  of  lights,  for  the  improvement 
of  his  captors'  minds ;  and  finally  arrayed  himself  en 
grande  tenue,  in  order  to  avail  himself  of  whatever 
influences  his  uniform  should  chance  to  possess  with 
those  he  might  meet  with  on  his  way. 

"  Not  so  the  General  Changarnier.  As  the  officials 
entered,  he  snatched  up  a  brace  of  pistols,  and  ex- 
claimed, '■Je  suis  arme.'  The  chief  quietly  replied  that 
he  saw  such  was  the  case,  and  that  he  Avas  well  aware 
that  General  Changarnier,  by  discharging  his  weapons, 
could  kill  a  couple  of  those  who  had  come  to  take  him. 
But  he  suggested  this  course  would  scarcely  be  attended 
with  appreciable  advantages,  inasmuch  as  the  house  was 
eiitoure  by  soldiers,  so  that  the  general's  escape  would 
be  impossible,  and  as,  moreover,  the  ultimate  result 
would  assuredly  be  a  prompt  trial  and  a  dishonorable 
execution.      These   arguments    had   weight   with   the 

u  * 


246  EUROPA. 

hasty  but  sensible  Changarnier,  who  thereupon  laid 
down  his  pistols,  and  surrendered  his  person. 

"  Not  so,  again,  with  the  amiable  Cavaignac.  The 
gentler  occupation  in  which  he  had  lately  been  engaged 
had  probably  softened  his  heroic  spirit ;  and,  upon  his 
being  aroused  from  his  slumbers,  and  informed  that  he 
was  arrested,  he  placidly  remarked,  ^  C est  juste ^'  and, 
rubbing  his  eyes,  requested  to  be  apprised  whether  he 
might  be  permitted  to  dress  himself,  adding,  in  the  most 
courteous  manner,  that  his  toilet  would  not  detain  him 
long.  Being  entreated  to  make  his  arrangements  pre- 
cisely in  the  way  most  agreeable  to  himself,  he  rose, 
went  through  the  toilet  duties  with  the  most  perfect 
composure  and  completeness,  and  then,  presenting  him- 
self with  a  bow  to  the  officer,  politely  declared  himself, 
''A  vos  ordres.'' 

"  It  is,  I  trust,  not  below  '  the  dignity  of  history  '  to 
add  that  General  Cavaignac  forthwith  addressed  a  letter 
to  the  young  lady  whom  he  was  so  shortly  to  have  es- 
poused, in  which  he  chivalrously  declared  that  he  con- 
ceived that  the  event  which  had  occurred  had  entirely 
deprived  him  of  any  right  to  consider  her  bound  by 
engagements  made  with  a  free  man ;  and  he  formally 
released  her  from  any  such  ties.  If  I  may  state  this, 
I  must  claim  leave  to  add,  for  the  admiration  of  all 
who  can  appreciate  high-mindedness,  that  the  lady 
promptly  and  gracefully  replied,  that,  so  far  from  con- 
sidering the  event  in  question  as  having  released  her 
from  a  tie  in  which  she  took  so  much  pride,  it  had, 
if  possible,  rendered  her  engagement  more  binding 
than  before. 

"  From  which  little  romance  let  us  pass  to  the  very 
unromantic  conduct  of  Colonel  Charras,  who,  being 
also  captured  in   bed,  refused   to   get   up,  refused   to 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     247 

dress  himself,  or  to  allow  himself  to  be  dressed ;  swore 
that,  if  taken  at  all,  he  would  be  taken  en  chemise ; 
and  was,  into  the  bargain,  taken  at  his  word,  being 
bundled  up  with  such  bedclothes  as  came  readiest,  and, 
in  that  unseemly  guise,  thrust  into  a  vehicle  and  con- 
veyed to  prison.  General  Lamoriciere  made  a  deter- 
mined resistance,  of  a  more  soldierly  kind;  but  the 
impression  seems  to  be  that  the  account  of  it  which 
found  its  way  into  print  was  much  exaggerated,  and 
that  no  particular  harm  was  done." 

General  Cavaignac  was  soon  to  be  married  to  Mad- 
emoiselle Odier ;  and,  when  he  was  arrested,  like  a 
true  man,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  her  a  full  and  free 
discharge  from  all  her  former  engagements.  His  cir- 
cumstances had  changed ;  he  was  a  prisoner ;  his  cap- 
tivity was  to  last  he  knew  not  how  long  ;  and  he  gave 
her  full  freedom  to  act  accordingly,  writing  her  as 
follows  :  "  You  have  youth,  beauty,  accomplishments, 
wealth ;  a  throng  of  admirers,  young,  and  more  meri- 
torious than  I  am,  surround  you.  Choose  from  among 
them,  and  you  will  be  nearly  as  happy  as  you  deserve 
to  be  —  happier  than  I  can  make  you."  The  noble 
woman  instantly  replied,  giving  him  an  assurance  of 
her  changeless  love,  and  her  determination  to  share  his 
fortunes,  be  they  adverse  or  propitious.  The  general, 
as  is  known,  has  since  been  liberated,  and  at  once  ap- 
plied to  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  to  unite  him  in  mar- 
riage to  the  woman  of  his  choice.  The  ecclesiastic 
consented  on  condition  that  the  bride  would  pledge  to 
have  her  children  educated  in  the  Catholic  faith.  Mad- 
emoiselle Odier,  who  is  a  Protestant,  refused  to  give 
her  consent,  and,  with  the  general,  went  to  Holland, 
where  the  knot  was  tied  without  any  such  restrictions. 

On  the  morning  of  December   2,  whoever  walked 


248  EUROPA. 

abroad  might  have  seen,  on  the  walls  of  the  houses, 
and  the  corners  of  the  street,  the  famous  proclamation, 
running  in  these  words  :  — 

In  the  name  of  the  French  people,  the  president  of 
the  republic  decrees,  — 

Art.  I.  The  National  Assembly  is  dissolved. 

Art.  II.  Universal  suffrage  is  reestablished.  The 
act  of  the  31st  of  May  is  repealed. 

Art.  III.  The  French  people  are  convoked  in  their 
elective  colleges  from  the  14th  to  the  21st  of  De- 
cember. 

Art.  IV.  The  state  of  siege  is  decreed  in  the  line  of 
the  first  military  division. 

Art.  V.    The  Council  of  State  is  dissolved. 

Art.  VI.  The  minister  of  the  interior  is  charged 
with  the  execution  of  this  decree. 

Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

This  was  followed  by  an  address  to  the  army,  on 
which  the  base  usurper  relies  for  support. 

Soldiers  :  Be  proud  of  your  mission  ;  you  will  save 
the  country.  I  rely  upon  you,  not  to  violate  the  laws, 
but  to  command  respect  for  the  first  law  of  the  coun- 
try, national  sovereignty,  of  which  I  am  the  legitimate 
representative. 

You  long  suffered,  like  me,  from  the  obstacles  that 
prevented  me  from  doing  you  all  the  good  I  intended, 
and  opposed  the  demonstrations  of  your  sympathy  in 
my  favor.  Those  obstacles  are  removed.  The  Assem- 
bly sought  to  impair  the  authority  which  I  derive  from 
the  entire  nation  ;  it  has  ceased  to  exist. 

I  make  a  loyal  appeal  to  the  people  and  the  army ; 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     249 

and  I  tell  them,  either  give  me  the  means  of  insuring 
your  prosperity,  or  choose  another  in  my  place. 

In  1830,  as  well  as  in  1848,  you  were  treated  as  a 
vanquished  army.  After  having  branded  your  heroical 
disinterestedness,  they  disdained  to  consult  your  sympa- 
thies and  wishes ;  and,  nevertheless,  you  are  the  elite 
of  the  nation.  To-day,  at  this  solemn  moment,  I  wish 
the  voice  of  the  army  to  be  heard. 

Vote,  then,  freely,  as  citizens  ;  but,  as  soldiers,  do 
not  forget  that  passive  obedience  to  the  orders  of  the 
chief  of  the  government  is  the  rigorous  duty  of  the 
army,  from  the  general  down  to  the  soldier.  It  is  for 
me,  who  am  responsible  for  my  actions  before  the  peo- 
ple and  posterity,  to  adopt  the  measures  most  conducive 
to  the  public  welfare. 

As  for  you,  maintain  entire  the  rules  of  discipline 
and  honor.  By  your  imposing  attitude  assist  the  coun- 
try in  manifesting  its  will  with  calmness  and  reflection. 
Be  ready  to  repress  all  attempt  against  the  free  exercise 
of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people. 

Soldiers :  I  do  not  speak  to  you  of  the  recollections 
attached  to  my  name.  They  are  engraved  on  your 
hearts.  We  are  united  by  indissoluble  ties.  Your  his- 
tory is  mine.  There  is  between  us,  in  the  past,  a  com- 
munity of  glory  and  misfortunes.  There  shall  be,  in 
the  future,  a  community  of  sentiments  and  resolutions 
for  the  repose  and  grandeur  of  France. 

Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

Palace  of  the  Eltsee,  December  2. 

To  the  people,  in  a  proclamation,  he  gave  a  more  full 

manifestation  of  his  purpose,  unfolding  more  at  large 

his  plans.     But  whoever  reads  and  knows  the  facts  in 

the  case  must  be  aware  that  he  cares  nothing  for  the 

32 


250  EUROPA 

l^eople.  Relying  upon  the  bayonet  and  the  sword,  he 
is  determined  to  compel  an  acquiescence  in  his  plans ; 
and  whoever  sees  the  result  will  witness  as  monstrous  a 
wrong  upon  the  rights  of  the  people  as  was  ever  com- 
mitted by  the  emperor  himself.  Here  is  his  address  to 
the  people :  — 

Frenchmen  :  The  present  situation  cannot  last  much 
longer.  Each  day  the  situation  of  the  country  becomes 
worse.  The  Assembly,  which  ought  to  be  the  firmest 
supporter  of  order,  has  become  a  theater  of  plots.  The 
patriotism  of  three  hundred  of  its  members  could  not 
arrest  its  fatal  tendencies.  In  place  of  making  laws 
for  the  general  interest  of  the  people,  it  was  forging 
arms  for  civil  war.  It  attacked  the  power  I  hold  di- 
rectly from  the  people ;  it  encouraged  every  evil  pas- 
sion ;  it  endangered  the  repose  of  France.  I  have  dis- 
solved it ;  and  I  make  the  whole  people  judge  between 
me  and  it.  The  constitution,  as  you  know,  had  been 
made  with  the  object  of  weakening  beforehand  the 
powers  you  intrusted  to  me.  Six  millions  of  votes 
were  a  striking  protest  against  it ;  and  yet  I  have  faith- 
fully observed  it.  Provocations,  calumnies,  outrages, 
found  me  passive.  But  now  that  the  fundamental  part 
is  no  longer  respected  by  those  who  incessantly  invoke 
it,  and  the  men  who  have  already  destroyed  two  mon- 
archies wish  to  tie  up  my  hands,  in  order  to  overthrow 
the  republic,  my  duty  is  to  baffle  their  perfidious  pro- 
jects, to  maintain  the  republic,  and  to  save  the  country, 
by  appealing  to  the  solemn  judgments  of  the  only  sov- 
ereign I  recognize  in  France  —  the  people. 

I,  then,  make  a  loyal  appeal  to  the  entire  nation ; 
and  I  say  to  you,  if  you  wish  to  continue  this  state  of 
disquietude  and  malaise  that  degrades  you  and  endan»qers 


LOUIS   NAPOLEON  AND   FRENCH  POLITICS.  251 

the  future,  choose  another  person  in  my  place ;  for  I 
no  longer  wish  for  a  place  which  is  powerless  for  good, 
but  which  makes  me  responsible  for  acts  that  I  cannot 
hinder,  and  chains  me  to  the  helm  when  I  see  the 
vessel  rushing  into  the  abyss.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
you  have  still  confidence  in  me,  give  me  the  means  of 
accomplishing  the  grand  mission  I  hold  from  you. 
That  mission  consists  in  closing  the  era  of  revolution, 
in  satisfying  the  legitimate  wants  of  the  people,  and 
in  protecting  them  against  subversive  passions.  It 
consists  especially  to  create  institutions  which  survive 
men,  and  which  are  the  foundation  on  which  some- 
thing durable  is  based.  Persuaded  that  the  instability 
of  power,  that  the  preponderance  of  a  single  Assembly, 
are  the  permanent  causes  of  trouble  and  discord,  I  sub- 
mit to  your  suffrages  the  fundamental  bases  of  a  con- 
stitution which  the  Assemblies  will  develop  hereafter. 

First  A  responsible  chief,  named  for  ten  years. 

Second.  The  ministers  dependent  on  the  executive 
alone. 

Third.  A  council  of  state,  formed  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished men,  preparing  the  laws,  and  maintaining 
the  discussion  before  the  legislative  corps. 

Fourth.  A  legislative  corps,  discussing  and  voting 
the  laws,  named  by  universal  suffi-age,  without  the 
scrutin  de  liste,  which  falsifies  the  election. 

Fifth.  A  second  Assembly,  formed  of  all  the  illustri- 
ous persons  of  the  nation  —  a  preponderating  power, 
guardian  of  the  fundamental  pact  and  of  public  liberty. 

This  system.,  created  by  the  first  consul  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  present  century,  has  already  given  to  France 
repose  and  prosperity.  It  guaranties  them  still.  Such 
is  my  profound  conviction.  If  you  partake  it,  declare 
so  by  your  suffrages.     If,  on  the  contrary,  you  prefer  a 


252  EUROPA. 

government  without  force,  monarchical  or  republican, 
borrowed  from  some  chimerical  future,  reply  in  the 
negative.  .Thus,  then,  for  the  first  time  since  1804, 
you  will  vote  with  complete  knowledge  of  the  fact,  and 
knowing  for  whom  and  for  what  you  vote. 

If  I  do  not  obtain  the  majority  of  the  votes,  I  shall 
summon  a  new  Assembly,  and  lay  down  before  it  the 
mission  I  have  received  from  you.  But  if  you  believe 
that  the  cause  of  which  my  name  is  the  symbol  —  that 
is,  France  regenerated  by  the  revolution  of  '89,  and 
organized  by  the  emperor  —  is  still  yours,  proclaim  it 
to  be  so  by  ratifying  the  powers  I  demand  of  you. 
Then  France  and  Europe  will  be  preserved  from  an- 
archy, obstacles  will  be  removed,  rivalries  will  have 
disappeared ;  for  all  will  respect,  in  the  will  of  the 
people,  the  decree  of  Providence. 

Done  at  the  Palace  of  the  Elysee,  this  2d  of  December. 
Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte. 

A  large  number  of  the  members  of  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies  known  to  be  unfavorable  to  Napoleon  were 
arrested ;  others  tried  to  assemble,  and  at  length  suc- 
ceeded, and  enacted  the  following  decree :  — 

Republique  Francaise,  ) 

AssEMBLEE  Nationale,  December  2,  1851.  ^ 

Whereas,  article  68  of  the  constitution  enacts  as  fol- 
lows :  The  president  and  his  ministers  are  each  respon- 
sible for  the  acts  of  the  government ;  and  any  measure 
by  which  the  president  of  the  republic  shall  dissolve  or 
prorogue  the  National  Assembly,  or  place  any  obstacle 
to  the  exercise  of  its  functions,  is  an  act  of  high  trea- 
son,—  by  that  very  act,  the  president  forfeits  his  au- 
thority, and  every  citizen  is  bound  to  refuse  obedience 
to  his  orders. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     253 

The  Assembly,  therefore,  since  it  is  hindered  by  vio- 
lence from  accomplishing  its  mission,  decrees :  — 

Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte  is  deprived  of  his  func- 
tions as  president  of  the  republic,  and  the  citizens  are 
called  on  to  refuse  him  obedience. 

The  executive  power  passes  in  its  plenitude  to  the 
Assembly. 

The  judges  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice  are  called 
on  to  meet  immediately,  upon  pain  of  dismissal,  to  pro- 
ceed to  judgment  agamst  the  president  and  his  accom- 
plices. 

It  is  enjoined  upon  all  functionaries  that  they  obey 
the  requisition  made  in  the  name  of  the  Assembly, 
under  penalty  of  forfeiture,  and  the  punishment  pre- 
scribed for  high  treason. 

Made  m  public  sitting  this  2d  December,  1851. 
(Signed)  Benoist  D'Azy,  President. 

ViTET,  Vice  President 
Chapot  and  Moulin,  Secretaries. 

They  also  sent  out  an  address  to  the  French  people, 
calling  upon  them  to  arise  and  hurl  the  usurper  from 
his  position.  But  to  the  eloquent  appeal  there  was  no 
response.  The  people  had  little  more  love  for  the 
National  Assembly  than  for  the  president  himself,  and 
heard  the  burning  words  of  the  Chamber  without  the 
least  enthusiasm.  They  feared  one  hundred  thousand 
bayonets,  that  were  glistening  within  the  walls  of  Paris. 
The  whole  address  may  be  judged  by  the  following 
sentences :  — 

"Will  you  be  debased?  "Will  you  be  enslaved *? 
Will  you  become  henceforth  an  object  of  eternal  con- 
tempt and  ridicule  to  the  oppressed  peoples  who  await- 
ed their  deliverance  at  your  hands  ? 

V 


254  EUKOPA. 

"  Louis  Bonaparte  has  just  crowded  into  a  few  hours 
more  crimes  than  it  would  have  been  thought  possible 
to  include  in  the  life  of  man. 

"  Like  a  thief,  he  has  seized  upon  the  liberties  of  his 
country  by  a  nocturnal  surprise  —  a  vulgar  artifice, 
which  certain  people  have  been  rash  enough  to  call 
courage. 

"  He  has  audaciously  trifled  with,  the  sanctity  of  the 
domestic  hearth. 

"  By  the  help  of  his  swaggering  soldieiy  and  police, 
he  has  silenced  every  voice  in  Paris  except  his  own. 

"  At  one  blow  he  has  suppressed  all  the  journals, 
and  has  cast  forth  into  the  streets  of  Paris,  without 
bread,  those  of  your  brethren  whom  the  press  sup- 
ported. 

"  He  lias  outraged,  stricken  down,  and  trampled  un- 
der foot  the  national  representation,  not  only  in  the 
persons  of  your  enemies,  but  also  in  that  of  Greppo, 
the  energetic  and  loyal  representative  of  the  workmen 
of  Lyons,  and  in  that  of  Nadaud,  the  mason,  who  has 
so  often  and  so  nobly  defended  your  interests  in  the 
tribune. 

"  Do  you  want  to  have  a  master  1  And  do  you  wish 
that  that  master  should  be  Louis  Bonaparte'?  You 
have  seen  the  air  with  which  he  traversed  the  streets 
of  Paris,  hedged  in  by  soldiers,  covered  by  cannon,  and 
causing  himself  to  be  borne  in  triumph  by  his  staff, 
adding  to  the  crime  of  high  treason  the  insolence  of  a 
conqueror,  and  treating  France  as  a  conquered  coun- 
try—  he  whose  military  annals  can  boast  of  nothing 
except  the  opprobrium  of  the  Roman  expedition. 

"  He  boasts  of  restoring  to  you  universal  suffrage, 
but  on  condition  that  it  be  worked  for  his  private 
advantage,  and  not  for  yours,  since  he  is  going  for  ten 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  TOLITICS.     255 

years  to  be  your  master.  '  No  scrutiny  of  the  list,'  he 
says.  Do  you  quite  understand  what  that  means  1  It 
means  that  the  elections  are  to  be  made  by  registers 
lodged  in  the  offices  of  the  mayor.  The  great  swin- 
dling maneuver  which  has  been  practiced  upon  France, 
once  in  her  history,  is  to  be  renewed.  Will  you  permit, 
precisely  when  it  is  pretended  to  restore  your  right, 
that  it  shall  be  filched  from  you  1 

"  Moreover,  to  exercise  the  right  of  the  suffrage,  you 
must  be  free.  Let  him  begin,  then,  by  restoring  free 
speech  to  the  journals ;  let  the  doors  be  flung  wide 
open  to  popular  meetings ;  let  every  man  speak  his 
mind,  and  learn  that  of  others.  Why  those  bayonets '? 
Why  those  cannon  ]  To  restore  universal  suffrage  with 
the  state  of  siege,  is  to  add  mockery  to  falsehood.  A 
people  proclaimed  sovereign,  it  is  the  mantle  of  slavery 
thrown  over  your  shoulders,  even  as  the  barbarian  chief, 
in  the  time  of  the  Lower  Empire,  threw  the  purple  over 
the  Roman  emperors  in  placing  them  among  his  camp 
followers.  Do  you  wish  to  be  enslaved '?  Do  you  wish 
to  be  debased  1  Such  is  the  cry  wrung  from  us  by  an 
indignation  impossible  to  be  restrained.  We  who,  in 
our  exile,  can  at  least  speak,  do  speak.  But  we  owe 
more  than  speech  to  the  republic  —  our  blood  belongs 
to  it.     We  know  it,  and  shall  not  forget  it." 

In  the  mean  while,  Victor  Hugo  fled  to  Brussels. 
Louis  Blanc  found  a  refuge  in  London,  from  which  he 
writes  letters  denouncing  Napoleon,  and  showing 
what  the  plan  is  on  which  he  may  be  expected  to  act. 
The  charge  which  he  brings  against  the  usurper 
is   this :  — 

"  To  divide  Europe  into  three  great  empires  —  a  Rus- 
sian empire,  extending  to  Constantinople  ;  an  Austrian 
empire,  with   the   definitive   annexation  of    Italy;    a 


256  EUEOPA. 

French  empire,  with  the  addition  of  Belgium.  From 
this  new  holy  alliance  between  three  great  despotic 
empires  to  cause  to  arise  a  war  to  the  death  against  the 
Democratic  party,  and  against  the  Liberal  and  Consti- 
tutional party ;  to  extinguish  beneath  the  army's  tread 
what  the  absolutist  powers  call  the  revolutionary  flame, 
—  that  is  to  say,  whatever  lights  the  human  spirit  on 
the  way  of  progress,  —  and  if  England  resists,  to  crush 

her; such  is  the  plan,  (who  can  doubt  it 

longer  1)  —  such  is  the  sacrilegious  plan,  of  which  the 
sack  of  Paris  is  the  commencement,  and  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  which  Louis  Bonaparte  has  delivered 
France  into  the  hands  of  French  Cossacks: 

"  On  the  reality  of  this  plan,  and  on  the  abominable 
complicity  which  binds  to  the  fortune  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas  the  ambition  of  Louis  Bonaparte,  I  may  be 
able  very  shortly  to  publish  some  proofs,  which  I  am 
now  in  course  of  collecting.  We  can  then  judge  of 
the  important  influence  which  Russian  gold  exercises 
in  the  humiliation  and  misfortunes  of  France." 

Soon  blood  began  to  flow  in  the  streets  of  Paris. 
Hundreds  were  slaughtered  while  quietly  sitting  in 
their  houses  on  the  Boulevards.  The  press  was  re- 
stricted, and  a  guard  placed  in  every  office,  and  the 
news  went  out  to  the  world,  that  in  a  single  night 
republican  France  was  changed  into  a  military  des- 
potism. 

In  England  and  America,  the  tidings  were  received 
with  regret,  while  bonfires  were  built  in  Rome,  and 
public  rejoicings  were  held  in  Vienna. 

The  election  of  a  president  for  ten  years  was  given 
to  the  people,  and,  under  the  influence  of  fear,  they 
have  decided  to  be  slaves.  The  vote  stood  as  fol- 
lows :  —  • 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  TOLITICS.     257 

The  whole  number  of  ballots,      .         .         8,116,773 

Yeas, 7,439,216 

Nays, 640,216 

Majority,         .         .     6,789,479 

Upon  which,  the  president  uses  the  following  extraor- 
dinary language : — 

"  France  has  comprehended  that  I  departed  from 
legality  to  return  to  right.  Upwards  of  seven  mil- 
lion votes  have  absolved  me.  My  object  was  to  save 
France,  and  perhaps  Europe,  from  years  of  trouble  and 
anarchy.  I  understood  all  the  grandeur  of  my  mission. 
I  do  not  deceive  myself  as  to  its  difficulties  ;  but,  with 
the  counsel  and  support  of  all  right-minded  men,  the 
devotedness  of  the  army,  and  the  protection  which  I 
shall  to-morrow  beseech  Heaven  to  grant  me,  I  hope  to 
secure  the  destinies  of  France,  by  founding  institutions 
responding  to  the  democratic  instincts  of  the  nation, 
and  the  desire  of  a  strong  and  respected  government  ; 
to  create  a  system  which  reconstitutes  authority  with- 
out wounding  the  feelings  of  equality,  in  closing  any 
path  of  improvement ;  and  to  lay  the  foundation  of 
an  edifice  capable  of  supporting  a  wise  and  beneficent 
liberty." 

The  Catholic  religion  has  been  restored  to  the  Pan- 
theon, the  hands  of  the  priests  have  been  strengthened, 
and  the  wheel  of  progress,  to  all  human  appearance, 
has  turned  backward  in  France  a  quarter  of  a  century.^ 


'  The  state  of  society  may  be  gath-  grievances  to  which  they  were  ex- 

ered  from  the  following  paragraphs,  posed  by  the  rigorous  censorship  un- 

taken  from  late  Paris  papers  :  —  der  which  the  newspapers  have  been 

"  A  deputation,  consisting  of  some  placed  since  the  revolution  of  the  2d 

of  the  principal  editors  of  the  mod-  of  December.     The  gentleman  who 

erate   press,  were   received   by   the  headed  the  deputation  spoke  for  ful- 

president  of  the  republic  in  a  private  ly  half  an  hour,  and  concluded  his 

interview,  which  they  had  requested  speech  by  expressing  a  hope  that  the 

for  the  purpose  of  representing  the  president  would  give  some  moderate 

83  V*- 


258  EUROPA. 

My  conviction  is,  founded  upon  what  knowledge  I 
have  of  French  history,  and  what  I  saw  of  the  French 
peoj)le  while  in  that  country,  that  a  liberal  monarchy 
—  "a  throne,"  as  Lafayette  said,  "  surrounded  by  lib- 
eral institutions  "  —  would  be  better  for  France  than  a 
republican  form  of  government.  Under  existing  cir- 
cumstances, a  republic  must  be  a  military  despotism  ; 
and  law  must  be  enforced  and  order  preserved  only  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet.  A  wise  and  liberal  king, 
who  could  command  the  respect  and  secure  the  affec- 
tion of  his  people,  would  be  preferable  to  one  who, 
though  called  by  a  less  formidable  title,  would  secure 
no  respect  and  demand  no  affection.  There  are  several 
reasons  why  France  is  not  prepared  for  a  republican 
government,  and  why  such  a  government  cannot  exist ; 
and,  — 

1.  She  lacks  a  system  of  general,  popular  education. 
A  republic  is  the  highest  style  of  human  government, 

latitude    to   the  papers  to  comment  interior  was  compelled,  by  high  au- 

upon  passing  events.     Louis  Napo-  thority,  to  request  madame  to  name 

leon  listened  with  great  composure  what  chateau  she  would  prefer  for  a 

and   patience  ;  but  his  only  answer  country  residence,  with  a  postscript 

was  the  following :  '  Gentlemen,  the  stating  that  she  must  not  return  to 

press  has  already  destroyed  two  dy-  Paris   without    express    presidential 

nasties.     I  may  fall  like  the  others ;  permission. 

but  I  shall  take  care  that  it  shall  not  "  M.  Thiers  wrote  a  letter  to  the 

be  by  the  press.'     And  with  this  he  minister  of  the  interior  for  leave  to 

bowed  them  out.  return  to  France,  offering  to  abstain 

"  The  Marquise  d'Osmond,  a  Legit-  from  politics.     The  minister  went  to 

imist  lady,  gives  brilliant  reunions  at  Louis  Napoleon  with  the  letter,  and 

her  hotel  on  the  Boulevard  de  Made-  desired  to  know  what  answer  he  was 

leine  ;  and  her  guests  ivould  talk  pol-  to  send.    Louis  Napoleon  said,  '  Give 

itics.     The  minister  of  the  interior  me  the  fourth  volume  of  The  History 

apprised  madame  that  such  subjects  of  the  Revolution,  by  Thiers.'      The 

were  disagreeable  to  the  government,  book  was  given,  and  Louis  Napoleon 

But  madame  would  give  soirees,  and  pointed  to  a  passage  which  he  had 

guests  would  talk  of  what  interested  marked,  in  which  Thiers  reproaches 

France  and  the  world.     The  minister  the  emperor  for  not  having  expelled 

of  the  interior  insisted  that  politics  from  France,  as  a  measure  of  securi- 

must  be  dropped.     Madame  then  in-  ty,  several  of  his  political  adversa- 

vited  only  ladies  ;  but  '  only  ladies '  ries.     '  Copy  the  passage,'  said  Louis 

would  talk  politics  rather  than  scan-  Napoleon,  '  and  send  it  to  M.  Thiers, 

dal,  and  the  courteous  minister  of  the  as  the  answer  to  his  application.' 


> » 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FKENCH  POLITICS.     259 

and,  next  to  a  theocracy,  which  wc  never  can  expect  to 
see  until  human  nature  is  greatly  changed,  is  most  de- 
sirable. But  a  republic  is  not  made  in  a  single  hour. 
There  are  materials  which  cannot  be  made  into  demo- 
crats, and  which,  under  a  democratic  government,  would 
prove  worthless.  It  is  no  compliment  to  say  that  a 
savage  would  make  a  good  republican.  We  have  a 
great  and  successful  republic ;  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  all  other  nations  are  ready  to  follow  our  example. 
The  training  of  our  Union  has  been  peculiar,  and  the 
people  have  been  schooled  into  habits  and  principles 
which  fit  them  for  democracy.  The  imperfect  educa- 
tion of  the  French  people ;  the  lack  of  a  general  sys- 
tem of  education ;  the  few  who  can  read  the  name  on 
the  ballot  which  they  cast  into  the  box,  —  are  sure 
evidences  that  they  would  make  indifferent  republi- 
cans. The  idea  of  self-government  among  a  people 
who  have  no  school-houses  is  an  absurdity.  It  may 
exist  as  a  theory,  but  never  as  a  fact.  While  a  few  in 
France  are  learned  and  eloquent,  the  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple are  left  without  the  advantages  of  a  common  edu- 
cation, and  the  number  who  can  read  and  write  is  com- 
paratively small.  Under  such  circumstances,  liberty 
will  not  be  appreciated,  and  a  free  government  will  be 
productive  of  more  evil  than  good.  Men  must  be  re- 
strained, if  not  by  reason  and  education,  by  sword  and 
bayonet.  Thus  the  revolution  which  drove  Louis  XVI. 
from  his  throne  to  the  guillotine  resulted  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  an  empire  of  force,  which  was  sustained 
only  by  continual  violations  of  the  evident  and  primary 
principles  of  civil  liberty.  The  revolution  which  sent 
Louis  Philippe  into  exile  is  tending  to  the  same  result, 
and  every  future  revolution  and  convulsion  will  only 
add  new  horrors  to  the  history  of  that  blood-drunken 
and  impulsive  nation. 


260  EUROPA. 

2.  France  is  destitute  of  a  pure  religion.  No  repub- 
lic ever  lived  long  without  a  pure  and  exalted  faith. 
The  old  republics  which  orators  and  poets  tell  about  fell 
because  they  were  destitute  of  a  living  principle,  which 
is  essential  to  the  very  idea  of  self-government.  France 
has  no  such  religion.  Forty-two  thousand  priests  — 
many  of  them  Jesuits  —  are  crushing  the  life  and  spirit 
of  freedom ;  and  a  free,  liberal  government,  with  such 
an  encumbrance,  is  an  impossibility.  The  nearer  you 
get  to  Rome,  the  more  dense  is  the  darkness,  and  the 
more  abject  the  slavery.  In  that  whole  city,  with  its 
multitude  of  crosses,  and  cathedrals,  and  public  build- 
ings, there  is  only  one  newspaper ;  and  that  so  insig- 
nificant and  badly  printed,  that  no  man  in  England, 
France,  or  America  would  read  it.  The  false  church 
rules  France ;  and  the  priests  are  at  the  foundation  of 
this  new  outburst  of  despotism.  They  cannot  live  and 
flourish  in  a  republic.  Their  empire  must  be  over  a 
nation  of  slaves  ;  and  their  constant  effort  will  be,  must 
be,  to  degrade  the  government  and  enslave  the  people. 
The  government  of  a  nation  always  corresponds  with  the 
prevailing  system  of  religion.  Episcopacy  cannot  pre- 
vail in  a  democracy ;  Congregationalism  cannot  succeed 
in  a  monarchy.  There  is  a  direct  antagonism  between 
them  ;  and  if  either  of  them  should  come  to  pass,  it 
would  be  a  paradox  as  yet  unknown. 

Hence,  to  make  France  a  republic,  you  must  uproot 
Eomanism,  and  overturn  the  dominion  of  the  Papal 
tyrant.  However  the  priests  may  act  in  energy,  they 
always  tend  to  a  subjugation  of  the  people,  to  the  limi- 
tation of  human  rights,  and  the  overthrow  of  political 
equality.  No  isolated  case  can  refute  this  general 
fact ;  and  a  single  case  of  patriotism  in  a  priest  may 
not  change  this  general  charge,  the  verity  of  which  is 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     261 

known  the  world  over,  from  the  gates  of  the  Vatican 
to  the  shores  of  America.  Any  hope  of  France  is  vain 
while  this  host  of  ecclesiastics,  wedded  to  tyranny,  and 
more  powerful  than  the  president,  more  influential  than 
the  National  Assembly,  more  dreadful  and  irresistible 
than  the  army,  continues  to  exist.  While  these  men 
live  in  France,  she  cannot  be  free.  While  they  mould 
the  consciences  of  the  masses,  and  sway  the  hearts  of 
the  rude  people  who  throng  the  pleasure  grounds  and 
crowd  the  Boulevards,  orators  may  declaim  from  the 
tribune,  and  poets  may  send  out  their  lays  in  praise 
of  liberty  ;  but  no  freedom  will  be  enjoyed.  An  army 
of  ecclesiastics,  with  beads  and  crosses  in  their  hands, 
is  more  potent  in  Paris  to-day  than  the  legions  of 
Louis  Napoleon ;  and  the  idea  of  a  republic  is  a  chi- 
mera of  the  imagination  which  will  never  be  realized  in 
France  until  the  Protestant  religion  forms  its  founda- 
tion. You  may  bring  any  splendid  theory  or  subtile 
argument  to  refute  the  notion  ;  but  I  have  the  history 
of  the  world  —  facts  which  none  can  deny  —  to  indorse 
my  opinion  that,  in  a  democracy,  the  church  must  be 
Congregational,  and  that  Episcopacy  and  monarchy  are 
inseparable. 

3.  The  character  of  the  French  people  is  a  poor 
guaranty  for  a  permanent  government.  They  are  not 
a  law-abiding  people,  and  love  change  and  excitement. 
They  have  become  familiarized  to  revolutions,  and  ex- 
pect them,  and  enter  into  them  with  the  same  zest  that 
they  pursue  their  pleasures.  They  would  be  satisfied 
with  the  best  government  among  men  only  as  long  as 
it  was  new.  King,  emperor,  president,  are  all  alike 
received  with  blessings  to-day,  and  curses  to-morrow. 
Besides,  every  measure  which  has  been  taken  to  elevate 
the  people  has  proved  abortive.     A  while  ago,  when 


262  EUROPA. 

the  restrictions  were  partially  removed  from  the  press, 
the  land  was  flooded  with  infamous  productions ;  and 
obscene,  blasphemous  sheets  fell  like  snow  flakes  into 
almost  every  family.  The  eloquent  M.  Coqueril,  a 
member  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  said,  while  we 
were  in  Paris,  that  France  had  no  moral  literature  of 
her  own  ;  and  that  every  book  in  the  language,  fit  to  be 
put  into  the  hands  of  children  or  youth,  was  a-  trans- 
lation. Though  this  statement  should  doubtless  be 
taken  with  some  abatement,  yet  it  is  very  true  that  the 
literature  of  France  is  of  a  most  debasing  and  corrupt- 
ing kind,  a  reflection  of  the  moral  character  of  the 
people. 

The  fact,  too,  that  Paris  rules  the  nation  is  no  ways 
favorable  to  the  permanence  of  a  republic.  All  France 
now  obeys  the  dictation  of  a  mob  in  the  metropolis. 
The  honest  laborers  of  the  farming  districts  know  but 
little  and  care  but  little  whether  Louis  Philippe  or 
Louis  Napoleon  is  at  the  head  of  government ;  and  if 
the  rabble  in  Paris  prevail,  they  very  readily  acquiesce 
in  whatever  they  do.  Before  a  republic  can  be  estab- 
lished, the  moral  tone  of  the  people  must  be  changed, 
and  the  whole  present  arrangement  of  society  altered. 
Chalons,  Dijon,  and  Lyons  must  have  a  voice  in  na- 
tional afikirs,  and  not  only  a  voice  as  at  present,  but  an 
influence  which  shall  be  felt  and  respected. 

4.  The  public  buildings,  palaces,  and  monuments  are 
indescribably  associated  with  royalty.  They  lose  their 
glory  in  the  eyes  of  the  French  as  soon  as  the  king  is 
removed.  This  obstacle  to  a  democracy  is  greater  than 
it  at  first  appears,  and  has  an  influence  which  we  should 
never  imagine.  There  is  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries, 
built  by  Catharine  de  Medicis,  improved  by  the  kings, 
the  place  where   the   massacre   of  St.  Bartholomew's 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  TOLITICS.     263 

day  was  planned,  the  royal  residence  of  a  privileged 
aristocracy,  which  is  now  open  to  all  who  choose  to 
visit  it.  The  French  wander  through  the  stately  pile, 
from  the  opera  room  to  the  consecrated  chapel,  but  they 
find  no  glory  in  such  an  edifice  while  it  continues  with- 
out an  occupant.  There  are  the  rooms  of  Louis  XVI., 
and  the  saloons  of  Napoleon,  and  the  chambers  of 
Louis  Philippe,  deserted,  cold,  and  dismal.  They  go 
out  to  Fontainebleau  and  St.  Cloud,  those  retreats  of 
beauty,  wealth,  and  fashion,  which  have  been  associated 
in  their  minds  with  royalty,  and  return  dissatisfied  and 
discontented.  They  throng  the  gardens  and  halls  of 
Versailles,  but  every  thing  reminds  them  of  something 
that  has  departed.  Here  are  seven  miles  of  pictures  in 
one  pile  of  buildings,  and  whoever  should  give  two 
minutes  to  the  examination  of  each  individual  work  of 
art,  would  require  eight  days  to  complete  his  task. 
These  paintings  are  calculated  to  foster  a  warlike,  mo- 
narchical spirit.  They  represent  scenes  of  blood  and 
glory.  Napoleon  figures  conspicuously.  Here  he  is  at 
the  battle  of  the  Pyramids ;  distributing  the  cross  of  the 
legion  of  honor  at  Boulogne ;  making  a  triumphal  en- 
try into  Paris ;  receiving  the  deputies  of  the  government 
which  proclaimed  him  emperor ;  haranguing  his  army 
previous  to  battle ;  receiving  the  delegates  and  keys  of 
the  city  of  Vienna;  giving  orders  before  the  battle  of 
Austerlitz ;  having  an  interview  with  Francis  11. ;  enter- 
ing triumphantly  into  Berlin ;  bidding  adieu  to  Alexan- 
der ;  being  married  to  Maria  Louisa ;  crossing  the  Alps 
over  the  winding  Simplon;  guiding  his  army  at  St. 
Bernard ;  storming  the  bridge  of  Lodi ;  at  Marengo,  at 
Wagram,  and  in  a  hundred  scenes  and  places  calculated 
to  fire  the  beholder  with  military  enthusiasm.  Here 
also  are  pointed  out  the  scenes  in  which  the  kings  of 


264  EUROPA. 

France  have  figured,  and  these  are  all  calculated  to  in- 
sph'e  the  people  with  a  love  of  royalty. 

On  Sunday,  thousands  of  the  people  visit  Versailles, 
examine  these  pictures,  walk  through  the  private  apart- 
ments, behold  the  furniture  used  by  kings,  and  the  very 
beds  on  which  they  reposed,  wander  through  the  gar- 
dens and  behold  the  different  walks  and  arbors,  all 
connected  with  monarchy  and  military  glory.  These 
buildings,  erected  at  an  immense  expense,  and  filled 
with  relics  of  the  past,  and  open  to  the  gaze  of  the 
most  humble  citizen,  all  plead  for  the  restoration  of 
the  throne.  The  French  walk  through  these  kingly 
halls  as  through  the  chambers  of  a  tomb,  and  see  no 
beauty  or  glory  because  a  royal  master  does  not  preside 
in  them.  As  the  proud  old  castles  of  Germany  and  the 
Rhine  have  no  beauty  and  glory  now,  because  dissevered 
from  feudal  customs  and  the  age  of  chivalry,  so  these 
vast  pleasure  groujids  and  familiar  resorts  of  the  Paris- 
ians are  mute  and  inelegant,  because  the  titled  dig- 
nity of  monarchy  does  not  abide  in  them.  To  a  people 
wha  live  mostly  in  the  open  air,  the  influence  of  this 
feeling  goes  farther  than  we  can  understand,  and 
doubtless,  to  the  pleasure-loving  people,  pleads  more 
eloquently  for  the  establishment  of  monarchy  than  do 
the  pri^dleges  of  freedom  for  a  genuine  republic. 

o.  A  republic,  if  established  at  all,  must  rise  in  the 
midst  of  long-established  prejudices,  and  against  the 
remonstrance  of  the  whole  continent.  The  power  of 
early  teaching  is  engaged  on  the  side  of  the  throne. 
The  children  of  Paris  have  grown  up  with  shouts  of 
royalty  upon  their  lips  ;  and  in  the  establishment  of  a 
democratic  form  of  government,  they  do  what  nations 
are  seldom  known  to  do  —  break  away  from  all  the 
prejudices  and  usages  of  the  past.     Riding  in  a  car,  one 


'T^" 


Hr^9i{ 


4lf   ,  4 


TOTHS  NAPOLEON  AND  FEENCH  POLITICS.  265 


\^r^^ 


>>.» 


266  EUROPA. 

genuine  republic  is  not  better  than  a  monarchy;  nor 
do  I  argue  that  a  people  who  can  govern  themselves 
should  give  up  that  government  to  others.  But  I  do 
affirm  that  continental  Europe  is  not  prepared  for  a 
democracy ;  that  republican  governments,  under  present 
circumstances,  are  not  only  improbable,  but  impossible. 
The  Protestant  religion  must  precede  a  republic,  and 
form  its  basis.  The  Papacy  and  freedom  are  inconsist- 
ent, and  entirely  irreconcilable  with  each  other.  AVe 
have  at  this  moment  on  our  soil  a  noble  champion  of 
freedom,  the  representative  of  a  struggling  nation,  over- 
whelmed but  not  conquered ;  a  nation  that  loves  liberty 
and  political  equity,  and  which  will  secure  it  in  the 
ultimate ;  a  nation  hemmed  in  by  the  hosts  of  Central 
and  Western  Europe,  but  still  counting  the  hours  to 
the  morning  on  which  shall  dawn  the  sun  of  Hungarian 
independence.  But  this  chafed  and  afflicted  people, 
who  still  cry  for  liberty,  are  cheered  by  the  Bible  and 
the  Protestant  religion.  Kossuth  is  a  noble  illustration 
of  an  enlightened  Calvinist,  and  openly  declares  that 
from  the  word  of  God  he  has  drawn  those  sublime 
sentiments  which  he  has  thundered  forth  in  the  ears  of 
tyrants  and  their  slaves.  His  speeches  are  read  with 
terror  in  the  pontifical  palace  at  Rome,  and  every  blow 
he  strikes  is  felt  by  the  mother  of  harlots  and  abomi- 
jiations.  The  religious  feelings  of  a  people  are  more 
potent  than  their  political  preferences.  If  they  have  a 
free  religion,  they  will  have  a  free  government.  A 
Protestant  community  never  can  be  long  enslaved. 
They  may  be  hunted  from  cave  to  mountain,  track- 
ing the  soil  with  blood,  and  illuminating  earth  mth 
the  flames  of  martyrdom;  but  they  will  stdl  be  free. 
A  Catholic  country  never  can  be  republican.  The  re- 
ligion of  the  country  is  an  absolute  monarchy,  and  it  I 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FKENCH  POLITICS.     267 

will  control,  pervert,  and  use  the  government  for  its 
own  ends.  The  history  of  the  world  illustrates  this, 
and  teaches,  in  every  lesson  which  it  gives,  that  the 
politics  of  a  nation  will  be  the  counterpart  of  the  re- 
ligion which  is  disseminated  by  the  professed  ministers 
of  God. 

"We  now  await  with  anxiety  the  next  arrivals  from 
Europe.  What  intelligence  they  will  bring,  none  can 
tell.  France  may  submit  ^  to  the  military  dictation  of 
Louis  Napoleon,  who  now  stands  with  his  feet  upon  the 
constitution  of  his  country,  appealing  to  the  army  to 
aid  him  in  striking  down  the  liberties  of  the  people ;  or 
they  may  resist,  and  sustain  the  constitution,  or  per- 
chance erect  a  throne,  and  place  upon  it  the  young 
Count  of  Parisj^r^on  of  the  Duchess  of  Orleans.  The 
other  nations  of  Europe  may  quietly  see  the  work  go 
on,  or  may  be  kindled  by  it  into  a  flame.  But  what- 
ever the  result  may  be,  we  have  confidence  that  it  will 
eventuate  in  the  overthrow  of  tyranny,  and  in  the 
downfall  of  that  false  church  of  which  Pius  IX.  is  the 
head,  which  stands  so  obviously  in  the  way  of  the  peace 
and  freedom  of  the  world.  God  is  arranging  the 
changes  which  are  occurring  upon  the  earth,  and  or- 
dering them  to  his  own  glory ;  and  political  men  are 
only  the  instruments  in  his  hands  of  bringing  about  his 
great  designs.  Nations  are  marching  and  counter- 
marching according  to  his  pleasure,  and  among  them 
he  is  turning  and  overturning,  that  his  Son  may  reign 
from  shore  to  shore  and  from  pole  to  pole. 

Before  closing  what  I  have  to  say  upon  France,  allow 
me  to  utter  a  word  upon  a  point  in  relation  to  which 
my  statements  may  appear  irreconcilable.     I  have  said 

'  France  has  submitted. 


268  EUROPA. 

that  the  French  were  a  gay,  excitable  people,  ready  for 
revolution  and  riot,  and  yet  I  have  remarked,  that  while 
in  Paris  I  did  not  see  a  drunken  man,  or  wdtness,  by 
night  or  day,  one  scene  of  disorder.  The  explanation 
which  I  would  give  to  the  general  and  universal  quiet 
of  Paris,  in  a  time  of  peace,  arises  from  the  efficient 
regulations  of  the  police.  Paris  is  full  of  spies  and 
secret  officers,  who  check  the  least  appearance  of  tu- 
mult. They  are  on  every  corner,  in  every  lane,  under 
every  tree,  in  every  building,  and  eifectually  overawe 
the  people  and  keep  them  quiet.  But  this  check  is 
removed  as  soon  as  signs  of  revolution  appear.  The 
policemen  are  frequently  the  instigators  of  violence,  or 
if  they  cast  their  influence  on  the  side  of  order,  the 
men  and  women  who  an  hour  ago  feared  them,  now 
have  gathered  strength  and  numbers,  and  are  able  to 
defy  the  police  and  all  their  regulations.  This  single 
fact  will  explain  why  a  people  so  naturally  excitable 
are  kept  quiet  and  orderly  in  the  metropolis.  There 
occurred,  on  the  4th  of  July  last,  a  singular  instance 
of  "  French  liberty."  A  gentleman  had  invited  the 
Americans  in  Paris  to  assemble,  and  in  a  quiet  manner 
celebrate  with  him  the  day.  A  French  band  was  in 
attendance,  and  during  the  evening  was  requested  to 
play  the  "  Marseillaise  Hymn,"  which  had  been  prohib- 
ited by  government.  The  soul-stirring  strains  floated 
out  upon  the  air  of  night,  and  were  caught  by  the 
secret  police,  who  rushed  in  and  scattered  the  band,  and 
all  the  French  visitors  and  attendants.  Some  one  arose 
and  said,  "  The  police  may  prevent  a  French  band  from 
playing  the  hymn,  but  they  cannot  prevent  American 
citizens  from  singing  it ;  "  and  merry  voices,  in  good 
round  Saxon  speech,  sung  it  through,  to  the  consterna- 
tion of  the  landlord,  and  the  indignation  of  the  police. 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.     269 

The  scene  is  represented  by  one  who  witnessed  it  as 
giving  any  thing  but  an  idea  of  liberty.  "VVe  wonder 
not,  when,  by  the  order  of  Louis  Napoleon,  the  French 
lie  which  has  hitherto  appeared  conspicuously  upon  the 
public  buildings  —  "  Liherte,  Egalite,  Fraternite  "  — 
was  painted  out  and  erased,  that  the  Red  Republicans 
should  wander  about  chalking  where  the  words  had 
been,  "  Infanterie,  Cavalerie,  Artillerie" 

We  bid  adieu  to  Paris  —  to  its  palaces,  its  triumphal 
monuments,  its  gay  scenes,  and  its  fading  glory.  We 
leave  it  with  the  conviction  that  it  will  never  be  a  gen- 
uine republic  until  its  infidelity  and  its  Romanism  give 
place  to  purer  and  more  truthful  dogmas.  One  of  the 
most  eloquent  of  orators  of  that  convulsed  and  bleed- 
ing nation  understands  this,  and  in  his  truthful  sen- 
tences we  read  the  cause  of  the  sad  downfall  of  the 
land  of  glorious  Lafayette.  Lamartine,  in  one  of  those 
sublime  ascents  in  which  we  admire  scarcely  less  the 
beauty  of  the  language  than  the  noble  utterance  of  the 
melancholy  truth  which  it  teaches,  presents  a  powerful 
and  painful  contrast  between  the  dying  words  of  the 
Puritans  of  England  and  America  and  the  sensualists 
of  France.^  In  the  godless  lives  and  deaths  of  the 
actors  in  France,  the  world  reads  a  lesson,  and  discovers 
why  the  republic  was  so  soon  stranded.  Louis  Napo- 
leon is  no  improvement  on  Mirabeau,  Danton,  Marat, 
and  Robespierre ;  his  republic  —  O  mercy !  —  must  re- 
sult like  theirs.     We  listen  to  the  orator, 

"Washington  and  Franklin  fought,  spoke,  suffered, 
ascended,  and  descended  in  their  political  life  of  popu- 
larity, in  the  ingratitude  of  glory,  in  the  contempt  of 
their  fellow-citizens  —  always  in  the  name  of  God,  for 

'  Bien  Publique. 

W* 


270  EUEOPA. 

whom  they  acted ;  and  the  liberator  of  America  died 
confiding  to  God  the  liberty  of  the  people  and  his 
own  soul. 

"  Sidney,  the  young  martyr  of  a  patriotism  guilty  of 
nothing  but  impatience,  and  who  died  to  expiate  his 
country's  dream  of  liberty,  said  to  his  jailer,  'I  rejoice 
that  I  die  innocent  towards  the  king,  but  a  victim,  re- 
signed to  the  King  on  high,  to  whom  all  life  is  due.' 

"  The  republicans  of  Cromwell  only  sought  the  way 
of  God,  even  in  the  blood  of  battles.  Their  politics 
were  their  faith,  their  reign  a  prayer,  their  death  a 
psalm.  One  hears,  sees,  feels  that  God  was  in  all  the 
movements  of  these  great  people. 

"  But  cross  the  sea,  traverse  La  Mancha,  come  to  our 
times,  open  our  annals,  and  listen  to  the  last  words  of 
the  great  political  actors  of  the  drama  of  our  liberty. 
One  would  think  that  God  was  eclipsed  from  the  soul ; 
that  his  name  was  unknown  in  the  language.  History 
will  have  the  air  of  an  atheist  when  she  recounts  to 
posterity  these  annihilations,  rather  than  deaths,  of 
celebrated  men  in  the  greatest  year  of  France.  The 
victims  only  have  a  God ;  the  tribunes  and  lictors 
have  none. 

"  Look  at  Mirabeau,  on  the  bed  of  death.  '  Crown 
me  with  flowers,'  said  he ;  '  intoxicate  me  with  per- 
fumes. Let  me  die  to  the  sound  of  delicious  music' 
Not  a  word  of  God  or  of  his  soul.  Sensual  philoso- 
pher, he  desired  only  supreme  sensualism,  a  last  volup- 
tuousness m  his  agony.  Contemplate  Madame  Roland, 
the  strong-hearted  woman  of  the  revolution,  on  the  cart 
that  conveyed  her  to  death.  She  looked  contemptu- 
ously on  the  besotted  people  who  killed  their  prophets 
and  sibyls.  Not  a  glance  towards  heaven  !  Only  one 
word  for  the  earth  she  was  quitting  — '  O  Liberty ! ' 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON  AND  FRENCH  POLITICS.  271 

"Approach  the  dungeon  door  of  the  Gu-ondins. 
Their  last  night  is  a  banquet ;  the  only  hymn,  the 
Marseillaise. 

"  Follow  Camille  Desmoulins  to  his  execution.  A 
cool  and  indecent  pleasantry  at  the  trial,  and  a  long- 
imprecation  on  the  road  to  the  guillotine,  were  the  two 
last  thoughts  of  this  dying  man,  on  his  way  to  the  last 
tribunal. 

"  Hear  Danton,  on  the  platform  of  the  scaffold,  at 
the  distance  of  a  line  from  God  and  eternity  —  '  I  have 
had  a  good  time  of  it ;  let  me  go  to  sleep.'  Then  to 
the  executioner  — '  You  will  show  my  head  to  the  peo- 
ple ;  it  is  worth  the  trouble.'  His  faith,  annihilation  ; 
his  last  sigh,  vanity.  Behold  the  Frenchman  of  this 
latter  age ! 

"  What  must  one  think  of  the  religious  sentiment 
of  a  free  people  whose  great  figures  seem  thus  to 
march  in  procession  to  annihilation,  and  to  whom  that 
terrible  minister  —  death  —  itself  recalls  neither  '  the 
threatenings  nor  promises  of  God ! 

"  The  republic  of  these  men  without  a  God  has 
quickly  been  stranded.  The  liberty  won  by  so  much 
heroism  and  so  much  genius  has  not  found  in  France 
a  conscience  to  shelter  it,  a  God  to  avenge  it,  a  people 
to  defend  it  against  that  atheism  which  has  been  called 
glory.  All  ended  in  a  soldier  and  some  apostate  repub- 
licans travestied  into  courtiers.  An  atheistic  republi- 
canism cannot  be  heroic.  When  you  terrify  it,  it 
bends ;  when  you  would  buy  it,  it  sells  itself.  It 
would  be  very  foolish  to  immolate  itself  AVho  would 
take  any  heed  ?  the  people  ungrateful,  and  God  non 
existent  1     So  finish  atheist  revolutions  ! " 


272  EUROPA. 


XX. 

SOUTHERN  FRANCE. 

-  We  turned  our  backs  on  Paris,  one  bright  and  beau- 
tiful day,  glad  to  escape  from  the  endless  round  of  vain 
and  frivolous  amusement  to  the  quiet  scenes  and  cool 
breezes  of  the  country.  The  ride  from  Paris  to  Cha- 
lons takes  a  long  day,  and  lies  through  a  country  finely 
diversified  —  now  passing  long  rows  of  women  toiling 
like  slaves  in  the  field,  now  through  tunnels  miles  in 
length,  and  anon  driving  across  beautiful  vine-covered 
plains.  On  Sunday,  the  day  before,  a  part  of  the  road 
had  been  opened  for  the  first  time.  Louis  Napoleon  — 
then  the  republican  president,  now  the  military  despot 

—  had  made  a  speech,  and  signs  of  the  festival,  such  as 
flags,  wreaths  of  flowers,  evergreens,  and  mottoes,  were 
seen  all  along  the  way.     "VVe  had  all  kinds  of  company 

—  women,  with  bags  containing  bread,  meat,  and  wine  ; 
jabbering  Frenchmen,  who  kept  up  a  conversation  de- 
lightfully unintelligible ;  children,  who  felt  it  duty  to 
cry  half  the  way ;  and  a  few  men  who  used  an  honest 
tongue.  "We  arrived  at  Chalons,  a  town  of  about  four- 
teen thousand  inhabitants,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night, 
and  forthwith  crowded  into  an  omnibus,  which,  after 
an  unusual  amount  of  scolding,  fretting,  snapping  of 
the  whip,  rolled  to  a  dirty  hotel,  where  we  stopped  for 
the  night,  and  at  length  grumbled  ourselves  to  sleep. 

Early  the  next  morning,  we  took  a  little  dirty  steamer, 
which  would  not  be  tolerated  on  the  Hudson,  for  Lyons. 


SOUTHERN  FRANCE.  273 

The  boat  started  early,  and  breakfast  was  to  be  taken 
on  board,  and,  very  soon  after  starting,  we  went  down 
below,  where  congregated  as  filthy  a  company  as  could 
be  found  in  Naples.  We  asked  if  we  could  have  some 
breakfast,  and  were  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

'^  Well,  we  will  have  some  beefsteak." 

"  It  finished,"  was  the  consoling  reply. 

"  Well,  we  will  have  some  bacon." 

"It  finished." 

"A  cup  of  cofi*ee,  then." 

"Coffee  all  finished." 

Thus  we  went  on  asking  for  one  article  after  another, 
to  each  of  which  the  provoking  reply  was  given,  "  It 
finished,"  with  the  utmost  coolness.  At  length,  we 
learnt  that  every  thing  was  finished  but  some  hard 
rolls,  a  little  butter  which  tasted  of  garlic  so  strongly 
that  we  could  not  eat  it,  and  a  cup  of  what  was  called 
"  tea,"  and  which  tasted  like  herbs  —  say  burdocks, 
steeped  in  salt  water,  and  sugared  with  snuff. 

The  sail  down  the  Hiver  Saone  is  very  beautiful,  and 
the  scenery  all  along  the  banks  is  most  delightful, 
though,  perhaps,  not  equaling  the  castle-guarded  Rhine, 
which  every  traveler  wishes  to  see.  High  hills,  covered 
with  vines,  cultivated  to  the  very  summit,  and  sloping 
beautifully  to  the  river ;  fine  villages,  sleeping  on  the 
shores ;  little  boats  gliding  up  and  down ;  steamers 
now  and  then  sweeping  by,  and  rippling  the  waves  to 
the  flower-fringed  bank  on  either  side,  —  all  render  the 
voyage  one  of  uninterrupted  pleasure. 

At  the  confluence  of  the  Saone  and  the  Rhone  lies 
the  old  town  of 

LYONS, 

where  we  stopped  over  night.     I  was  agreeably  disap- 
pointed in  the  appearance  of  this  place.     It  is  a  well 
35 


274  EUROPA. 

located,  cleanly,  and  pleasant  town,  and  my  remem 
brances  of  it  are  most  agreeable.  We  wandered  into 
the  old  cathedral,  a  monument  of  an  expiring  faith, 
saw  some  fine  churches,  bridges,  and  public  buildings, 
and  here  obtained  our  first  view  of  the  majestic  Alps, 
and  old,  hoary  Mont  Blanc,  with  its  summit  covered 
with  eternal  winter. 

Lyons  has  two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  many 
of  whom  are  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  silk,  an 
establishment  for  which  we  had  the  pleasure  of  visiting. 
I  could  but  mark  the  common  courtesy  of  the  people 
of  this  town,  as  we  moved  about  from  one  object  of 
interest  to  another.  We  called  at  a  large  store,  and 
inquired  where  we  could  find  a  silk  manufactory,  and 
how  we  could  obtain  admittance.  The  gentlemanly 
merchant,  though  his  shop  was  full  of  customers,  not 
only  gave  us  all  the  information  we  requested,  but  sent 
a  clerk  to  show  us  the  way  through  the  long,  narrow 
streets,  and  introduce  us  to  some  persons  who  would 
admit  us  to  what  we  wished  to  find.  The  town  is  well 
garrisoned,  and  from  the  hights  on  the  west  formidable 
fortifications  look  down  with  frowns  upon  the  people. 
The  two  rivers  are  spanned  by  beautiful  bridges  —  sus- 
pension, cast-iron,  and  stone. 

Leaving  Lyons,  we  take  the  steamer  again,  and  sail 
down  the  Rhone,  passing  beneath  the  very  bluffs  from 
which  the  pious  Waldenses,  the  humble  followers  of 
Peter  Waldo  of  Lyons,  were  cast  in  the  fury  of  per- 
secution. In  imagination,  I  could  see  these  devoted 
people  assembled  in  the  glens,  and  catch,  as  we  glided 
by,  the  smoke  of  their  fires  and  their  shady  forms. 
Swelling  from  devout  lips  came  rolling  down  their 
sublime  song,  which  now  rose  in  wild  and  thrilling 
cadence,  and  anon  seemed  to  die  away  amid  the  lofty 


SOUTHERN  FRANCE.  275 

hills.  And  there  is  seen  an  armed  band  winding  up  to 
the  secret  place,  with  stealthy  steps  and  slow,  to  do 
there,  amid  the  followers  of  God,  a  work  of  death. 

All  along  the  banks  of  this  river  are  old  Roman 
remains,  some  of  them  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preserva- 
tion. As  we  approach  Avignon,  the  seat  of  the  popes 
when  they  were  banished  from  Rome,  and  where  their 
old  palace,  used  for  a  prison,  still  stands,  we  pass  under 
the  Bridge  of  the  "Holy  Spirit,"  —  the  somewhat  inap- 
propriate and  singular  title  of  the  longest  stone  bridge 
in  the  world,  —  built  six  hundred  years  ago,  the  first 
bridge  ever  thrown  across  the  Rhone.  It  has  twenty-six 
arches,  and  is  the  noblest  structure  of  its  kind  in  France. 

We  stopped  an  hour  in 

AVIGNON, 

one  of  the  most  barbarous  places  I  was  ever  in.  The 
curse  of  the  popes  seemed  to  rest  upon  it.  There  were 
more  officious  porters  and  hackmen  at  the  landing,  more 
officious  landlords  waiting  to  take  advantage  of  our 
ignorance,  more  crying  children  in  the  streets,  and  more 
filthy,  wretched  habitations  than  I  ever  saw  in  any  one 
place  in  so  short  a  time  ;  and  of  all  the  towns  and  cities 
which  I  visited,  of  but  one  other  have  I  brought  away 
an  impression  so  unpleasant  as  of  this.  Other  travel- 
ers speak  very  well  of  Avignon ;  but  my  impression 
was,  that  if  half  of  the  people  could  be  shut  up  in  the 
old  Popish  palace,  and  the  other  half  could  be  set  to 
work  cleaning  the  streets,  it  would  be  a  passable  town. 
At  dusk,  we  left  Avignon  in  the  cars  for 

MARSEILLES, 

where  we  arrived  at  ten  o'clock.  As  we  neared  the 
town,  we  secured  our  first  view  of  the  Mediterranean 


276  EUROPA. 

Sea,  spread  out  nobly  beneath  a  pale  moonlight.  We 
soon  found  ourselves  at  the  Hotel  des  Emperors,  where 
our  accommodations  were  as  fine  as  could  be  obtained 
at  any  public  house  in  Boston.  We,  according  to  the 
common  usage,  hired  our  apartments,  and  took  our 
meals  when  and  where  we  wished.  At  this  hotel,  as 
at  all  others,  no  man  pays  for  more  than  he  eats.  If 
he  sits  down  to  the  table,  and  eats  a  simple  breakfast, 
he  is  charged  accordingly  for  each  article,  and  not  for 
his  breakfast  as  a  whole.  This  plan  enables  a  traveler 
to  regulate  his  expenses  according  to  his  means,  and  is 
very  favorable  for  any  one  who  is  disposed  to  be  tem- 
perate and  economical. 

We  here  made  the  acquaintance  of  our  consul,  Mr. 
Hodge,  who  took  great  pains  to  render  our  stay  in  the 
place  pleasant.  Our  representatives  abroad  are  not 
always  agreeable  men,  and  the  attention  of  government 
should  be  turned  to  the  conduct  of  some  of  its  officers 
on  the  continent.  They  are  sent  out  to  protect  Ameri- 
can citizens ;  and  they  do  give  protection  with  a  ven- 
geance. Contrary  to  law,  many  of  them  force  the  trav- 
eler to  pay  an  exorbitant  sum  for  an  examination  of  his 
passports,  and,  instead  of  rendering  him  any  assistance, 
are  perfect  plagues.  The  whole  passport  business  is  a 
shameful  humbug.  I  took  with  me  one  of  these  docu- 
ments, signed  by  the  present  secretary  of  state,  which 
I  supposed  would  carry  me  through ;  but  the  powers 
that  be  care  no  more  for  the  name  of  Daniel  Webster 
than  they  do  for  David  Crocket.  Some  forty  and  more 
consuls,  police  officers,  and  understrappers  persisted  in 
writing  their  jaw-breaking  names  upon  it,  for  which 
they  charged  me  from  one  franc  to  ten  francs  each. 

We  were,  however,  received  by  Mr.  Hodge  with  the 
greatest  kindness,  and  every  facility  given  us  to  see  the 


SOUTHERN  FRANCE.  277 

town  to  the  best  advantage.  The  gentlemanly  officer 
came  to  our  hotel  with  the  latest  New  York  papers, 
pomted  out  the  places  to  be  seen,  gave  us  instruction  as 
to  our  future  course,  and  really  conferred  upon  us  a 
great  favor.  All  our  countrymen  speak  of  Mr.  H.  in 
terms  of  approbation,  and  I  am  convinced  that  he  is 
one  of  the  few  men  who  represent  America  in  distant 
nations  to  the  general  satisfaction  of  travelers.  Had 
Horace  Greeley,  who  was  so  plagued  with  his  passport 
all  through  Europe,  visited  Marseilles,  he  would  have 
found,  in  our  consul  there,  one  whose  urbanity  and  good 
nature  go  far  to  make  the  American  in  a  strange  land 
value  and  admire  the  government  to  which  he  owes  his 
allegiance.  Mr.  Hodge  is  apparently  about  sixty  years 
of  age,  frank  and  courteous,  of  great  conversational 
powers,  dignified  in  his  bearing,  well  acquainted  with 
the  wants,  condition,  and  prospects  of  the  country  to 
which  he  has  been  sent,  and  the  hour  spent  with  him  is 
fresh  and  fragrant  in  my  memory. 

Marseilles  has  the  most  outlandish  appearance  of  any 
city  to  which  I  had  arrived.  In  the  streets  there  was  a 
promiscuous  commingling  of  all  nations.  Here  were 
the  turbaned  Turk,  the  unchristian  Jew,  the  wandering 
Gypsy,  the  polished  Parisian,  the  austere  Englishman, 
and  the  inquisitive  Yankee,  coming  and  going  on  this 
great  broad  road  from  London  and  Paris  to  Naples  and 
Kome.  As  you  move  about  the  narrow  streets,  your 
eye  every  where  rests  on  strange  sights.  Here  a  milk- 
man moves  along  the  streets  with  his  cows  and  goats, 
stopping  at  each  door,  and  drawing  milk  enough  for  the 
family  within ;  and  they  are  sure  that  no  water  has  di- 
luted that.  There  men  and  women  are  sitting  by  their 
door  steps  burning  coffee  and  chocolate  nuts,  to  be  used 
by   themselves,  or   sold  to  others.      Here   fine   flower 

X 


278  EUROPA. 

markets  are  held  in  the  public  streets,  and  there  rich 
stalls  of  delicious  fruit  tempt  the  taste  of  the  passer  by. 
Priests  and  nuns  are  moving  about,  the  former  sleek  and 
well  fed ;  the  latter,  pale,  modest,  and  saintlike. 

On  a  high  hill  on  the  south  of  the  town,  looking  out 
to  sea,  is  a  chapel  dedicated  to  "  Our  Lady,"  which  is  a 
curious  thing  in  its  way.  It  is  founded  upon  the  ruins 
of  a  temple  of  the  ancient  Druids,  and  was  built  six 
hundred  years  ago.  It  is  small,  dark,  and  dingy,  and 
is  evidently  not  designed  for  public  worship.  It  is  now 
full  of  votive  offerings,  which  hang  there  as  the  evi- 
dences of  a  perverted  religious  sentiment.  Sailors  when 
in  danger  at  sea,  and  men  and  women  when  sick  at 
home,  make  vows  to  the  Virgiji,  and  when  they  recover, 
or  are  delivered  from  peril,  whatever  it  may  be,  are  ac- 
customed to  bring  some  offering  to  this  chapel.  These 
offerings  are  of  small  value,  and  have  reference  and 
allusion  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  the 
person  has  been  placed.  Here  are  many  pictures  — 
some  representing  a  shipwreck,  some  a  sick  bed,  some 
one  scene,  and  some  another.  They  are  in  value  from 
five  cents  to  five  dellars.  Here  also  are  models  of  ships ; 
strings  of  beads  ;  crosses ;  clothing  which  persons  had 
on  when  saved  from  danger ;  crutches  which  were  used 
by  the  lame  before  their  recovery ;  wax  and  stone  hands, 
feet,  and  arms,  contributed  by  persons  who  had  lost  such 
limbs,  but  whose  health  was  restored.  Some  of  these 
articles  are  very  old,  and  some  date  as  far  down  as  the 
present  year.  On  the  chapel  is  a  bell,  beautifully  chased 
without,  and  weighing  twenty  thousand  pounds.  The 
tongue  is  eight  feet  long,  and  must  weigh  near  half  a 
tun.  From  the  flat  tower  of  this  chapel  a  fine  view  is 
obtained.  On  one  side  is  the  town,  with  its  red  tile 
roofs,  public  buildings,  churches,  and  its  narrow,  wind- 


SOUTHERN  FRANCE.  279 

ing  streets;  beyond,  imbosomecl  in  rich  foliage  and 
shady  trees,  are  scattered  on  the  hillsides  six  thousand 
country  seats  of  the  more  wealthy  people ;  and  behind 
all  are  the  bleared  and  cloud-capped  mountains.  On 
the  other  side  is  seen  the  beautiful  Mediterranean  — 
first,  the  docks,  old  and  new ;  then  the  harbor,  in  which 
is  the  island  where  is  the  prison  in  which  Mirabeau  was 
contined  in  his  youth  by  his  austere  parent,  which  con- 
finement made  him  the  ferocious  man  that  he  was.  Be- 
yond stretches  the  boundless  blue,  and  we  were  told 
that  on  every  clear  day  we  could  see  out  forty  miles, 
which  statement  you  may  credit  if  you  please.  The 
harbor  was  covered  with  neat  gondolas,  with  fancy  awn- 
ings, and  lazy  occupants  lounging  in  the  shade,  while 
out  to  sea  were  seen  the  larger  vessels,  the  full-rigged 
ship,  and  the  puffing,  bustling  little  steamers. 

On  Sunday,  I  embarked  for  Naples  on  board  the 
Ercolano.  I  was  somewhat  reconciled  to  the  necessity 
of  sailing  on  that  day,  from  the  fact  that  I  could  spend 
the  time  as  profitably  on  the  deep  as  on  the  land,  amid 
the  parades  of  soldiers,  the  firing  of  cannon,  and  the 
ringing  of  bells.  The  first  sound  I  heard  in  the  morn- 
ing was  the  discordant  echo  of  the  drum,  and  the  last 
which  fell  on  my  ear,  as  we  faded  from  the  land,  was  the 
boisterous  shout  of  sailors  on  the  wharf  So,  muttering 
as  well  as  I  could,  and  to  the  best  tune  I  knew,  — 

"  Thy  temple  is  the  arch 

Of  yon  unmeasured  sky  ; 
Thy  Sabbath  the  stupendous  march 
Of  grand  eternity,"  — 

I  saw  the  busy  seaport  losing  itself  in  the  dim  and 
misty  distance. 

I  was  amused  now  and  then  in  noticing  the  habits  of 


280  EUROPA. 

the  people.  As  we  left  the  landing,  a  pleasant  scene 
took  place  between  some  friends  who  had  come  down 
to  see  others  off.  When  the  intimation  was  given  that 
we  were  about  to  start,  these  French  people  fell  to  kiss- 
ing each  other  indiscriminately,  fathers  saluting  sons, 
and  mothers  embracing  daughters,  brothers  bringing 
their  huge  beards  together,  and  a  universal  smacking 
taking  place.  Though  I  confess  such  a  scene  to  be  not 
exactly  to  my  taste,  yet  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  beautiful 
exhibition  of  affection  and  regard,  much  better  than  the 
want  of  respect  which  is  so  often  found  among  relatives 
and  friends  among  us. 

We  had  on  board  the  Ercolano  two  full-grown,  com- 
pletely blossomed  white  friars,  the  first  genuine  ones  I 
had  seen.  I  had  noticed  monkery  and  priestcraft  in 
Paris,  but  it  was  evident  that  the  two  fat,  lazy,  careless 
creatures  we  had  with  us  trained  in  a  company  different 
from  any  I  had  seen.  They  were  on  their  way  to  Rome, 
and  one  of  them  was  the  superior  of  his  order,  and 
was  distinguished  from  his  fellow  by  a  ring,  engraven 
with  some  cabalistic  character,  which  he  wore  upon 
his  finger.  In  other  respects  they  were  attired  alike. 
They  had  on  wooden  sandals  ;  white  flannel  trowsers  of 
the  coarsest  texture  and  the  most  careless  cut ;  a  walk- 
ing cloak,  or  chemise,  or  gown,  which  reached  to  the 
feet,  of  the  same  material ;  a  rough  leather  belt  around 
the  body,  to  which  were  hung  a  few  beads,  a  wooden 
crucifix,  a  small  wooden  skull,  and  a  few  other  mean- 
ingless trinkets.  On  the  head  was  a  black  nightcap, 
or  something  which  would  answer  for  it,  covering  a 
shaven  crown.  They  seemed  to  be  men  of  little  energy 
or  character.  A  blank,  fadeless  look,  and  an  indiffer- 
ence to  every  thing  around,  seemed  to  characterize 
them,  and  they  were  objects  of  pity  and  contempt. 


SOUTHERN  FRANCE.  281 

The  sail  down  the  Mediterranean  is  delightful.  At 
one  time,  high  hills  and  bluffs  project  out  into  the  deep- 
blue  wave,  and  then  come  sloping  banks,  at  the  base  of 
which  little  towns  and  villages  cluster,  and  whose  sides 
are  covered  with  verdure.  On  some  of  the  hills  can  be 
seen  the  ruins  of  ancient  fortifications  which  have  fallen 
into  decay,  and  which  declare  to  the  stranger  the  les- 
sons of  his  own  frailty. 

Our  passage  down  was  rendered  pleasant  by  the 
formation  of  new  acquaintances,  as  we  had  on  board 
several  Americans  and  Englishmen  with  whom  we  had 
not  met  before.  The  time  passed  away  in  animated 
discussions  upon  various  subjects,  and  those  of  us  who 
loved  the  sea  were  not  overjoyed  when  our  steamer 
approached  the  land. 

36  X* 


282  EUEOPA. 


XXI. 

GENOA. 

After  a  passage  of  twenty-two  hours,  we  entered  the 
harbor  of  Genoa,  and  shot  up  towards  the  town,  which 
is  situated  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  in  a  semicircle,  form- 
ing a  beautiful  amphitheater  of  palaces.  At  a  dis- 
tance, the  town  looks  small,  and  one  would  hardly 
imagine  that  it  contained  one  hundred  and  fifteen 
thousand  inhabitants,  crowded  into  its  toppling  dwell- 
ings, Avhich  are  piled  story  upon  story,  until  they  seem 
almost  unable  to  stand  alone.  Passing  around  the 
light-house,  we  lay  under  the  guns  of  the  battery  two 
or  three  hours,  while  some  useless  formality  about  our 
passports  was  taking  place,  when  the  gens  cVarmes  gra- 
ciously permitted  us  to  land,  extorting  from  us  a  fee, 
of  course.  We  at  length  escaped  from  gens  d'armes, 
tide  waiters,  commissioners,  valets,  and  beggars,  and 
reached  the  Hotel  de  la  Ville,  which  was  formerly  a 
palace,  built  in  Tuscan  style,  with  a  rough  stone  base- 
ment, upon  which  rose  an  elegant  structure,  to  the 
hight  of  some  five  or  six  stories. 

It  was  fete  day  when  we  arrived,  and  the  lads  and 
lasses  were  all  out,  arrayed  in  holiday  attire.  The  lat- 
ter were  neatly  dressed.  The  headdress  was  especially 
beautiful  and  becoming.  It  consisted  of  a  thin  white 
crape  or  muslin  scarf,  thrown  over  the  head,  falling 


GENOA.  283 

down  upon  the  shoulders,  and  reaching  nearly  to  the 
feet.  These  pretty  women  were  moving  through  the 
streets,  hanging  on  the  arms  of  gayly-dressed  soldiers, 
who  are  paid  only  a  few  cents  a  day  for  their  services, 
or  riding  with  fast  horses  along  the  crowded  thorough- 
fare, and  presenting  a  spectacle  at  once  unusual  and 
animating. 

The  churches  of  Genoa  are  very  superb,  and  are 
filled  with  all  sorts  of  trumpery,  from  the  bones  of  a 
dead  dog  to  a  marble  Beelzebub.  The  old  cathedral  is 
built  in  alternate  layers  of  black  and  white  marble,  and 
is  an  interesting,  though  not  a  beautiful  building. 
Here  the  superstitious  Catholics  claim  to  keep  the 
bones  of  John  the  Baptist  in  a  little  chapel,  under  a 
marble  sarcophagus.  The  bones  are  in  an  iron  box, 
enclosed  in  another  of  marble.  I  ran  my  cane  through 
a  hole  in  the  box,  but  could  feel  nothing  like  bones,  nor 
could  I  start  the  old  saint  into  life  again,  though  I  con- 
jured him  to  speak.  A  great  amount  of  money  is  raised 
upon  these  bones  once  a  year,  when  they  are  taken  out 
and  a  frolic  held  over  them.  In  this  cathedral  is  kept 
a  dish,  probably  of  glass,  which  the  monks  say  is  formed 
of  a  single  emerald,  called  the  Sacra  Catino.  Some 
affirm  that  it  was.  presented  by  the  Queen  of  Sheba  to 
Solomon  ;  others  declare  that  it  was  the  dish  in  which 
the  paschal  lamb  was  put  at  the  great  feast ;  and  others 
still  assure  us  that  it  was  the  dish  in  which  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  caught  the  flowing  blood  of  Jesus  as  he 
hung  upon  the  cross.     "What  nonsense ! 

Over  the  door  of  one  church  I  saw  the  unhallowed 
inscription,  "  Indulgentia  plenaria  quotidiana  perpetua." 
The  streets  were  filled  with  priests  and  friars,  black, 
white,  and  gray,  dressed  very  much  like  those  we  saw 
on  board  the  steamer,  but  more  filthy,  many  of  them 


284  EUROPA. 

barefoot,  and  contrasting  strongly  with  the  well-fed, 
portly  priests,  with  their  nice  black  robes  and  cocked 
hats. 

Genoa  has  been  called  the  city  of  palaces,  and  these 
are  all  open  to  public  inspection.  Strangers  from  every 
clime  wander  through  halls  still  elegant  in  their  deser- 
tion, and  beautiful  in  their  decay.  Any  person  may 
rent  a  palace  at  a  less  cost  than  he  can  hire  a  decent 
tenement  among  us,  and  beggars  now  tread  where  nobles 
used  to  live. 

We  tried  to  inquire  about  Christopher  Columbus,  but 
were  only  laughed  at  for  our  pains.  Nobody  seemed  to 
know  him,  or  to  be  familiar  with  a  name  which  is  asso- 
ciated with  the  greatest  nation  in  the  world,  and  which 
is  respected  by  every  man  of  science  and  erudition.  A 
few  only  in  that  city  know  that  that  name  is  connected 
with  an  enterprise  more  honorable  than  the  most  glo- 
rious victory  ever  won  upon  the  fields  of  blood. 

The  people  of  Genoa  are  very  fond  of  amusements. 
Feast  days  and  festivals  occur  so  often  that  one  can 
hardly  keep  the  run  of  them,  and  operas  and  concerts 
are  in  full  blast  through  most  of  the  year.  A  recent 
tourist  ^  relates  a  circumstance  to  show  the  fondness  of 
the  Italians  for  music  and  mirth,  which  he  himself  wit- 
nessed in  the  opera.  Clara  Novello,  the  prima  donna 
of  the  season,  was  singing  and  acting,  when,  in  the  pit 
and  directly  before  the  stage,  "  a  man  was  suddenly 
seized  with  convulsions.  His  limbs  stiffened  ;  his  eyes 
became  set  in  his  head,  and  stood  wide  open,  staring  at 
the  ceiling  like  the  eyes  of  a  corpse;  while  low  and 
agonizing  groans  broke  from  his  struggling  bosom. 
The  prima  donna  came  forward  at  that  moment,  but 

Headley,  Letters  from  Italy. 


GENOA.  285 

seeing  this  livid,  death-stamped  face  before  her,  sud- 
denly stopped,  with  a  tragic  look  and  start,  that,  for 
once,  was  perfectly  natural.  She  turned  to  the  bass 
singer,  and  pointed  out  the  frightful  spectacle.  He 
also  started  back  in  horror,  and  the  prospect  was  that 
the  opera  would  terminate  on  the  spot ;  but  the  scene 
that  was  just  opening  was  the  one  in  which  the  prima 
donna  was  to  make  her  great  effort,  and  around  which 
the  whole  interest  of  the  play  was  gathered,  and  the 
spectators  were  determined  not  to  be  disappointed  be- 
cause one  man  was  dying,  and  so  shouted,  '  Go  on !  go 
on ! '  Clara  Novello  gave  another  look  towards  the 
groaning  man,  whose  whole  aspect  was  enough  to  freeze 
the  blood,  and  then  started  off  in  her  part.  But  the 
dying  man  grew  worse  and  worse,  and  finally  sprang 
bolt  upright  in  his  seat.  A  person  sitting  behind  him, 
all-absorbed  in  the  music,  immediately  placed  his  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  pressed  him  down  again,  and  held  him 
firmly  in  his  place.  There  he  sat,  pinioned  fast,  with 
his  pale,  corpse-like  face  upturned,  in  the  midst  of  that 
gay  assemblage,  and  the  foam  rolling  over  his  lips,  while 
the  braying  of  trumpets  and  the  voice  of  the  singer 
drowned  the  groans  that  were  rending  his  bosom.  At 
length,  the  foam  became  streaked  with  blood  as  it 
oozed  through  his  teeth,  and  the  convulsive  starts  grew 
quicker  and  fiercer.  But  the  man  behind  held  him 
fast,  while  he  gazed  in  perfect  rapture  on  the  singer, 
who  now,  like  the  ascending  lark,  was  trying  her  lofti- 
est strain.  As  it  ended,  the  house  rang  with  applause, 
and  the  man  who  had  held  down  the  poor  writhing 
creature  could  contain  his  ecstasy  no  longer,  and  lifting 
his  hands  from  his  shoulders,  clapped  them  rapidly  to- 
gether three  or  four  times,  crying  out  over  the  ears  of 
the  dying  man,  '  Brava,  brava ! '    and  then  hurriedly 


286  •  EUROPA. 

placed  them  back  again,  to  prevent  his  springing  up  in 
his  convulsive  throes.  The  song  ended,  and  the  gens 
d'armes  entered,  and  carried  him  speechless  and  lifeless 
out  of  the  theatre." 

I  slept  one  or  two  nights  in  Genoa,  or  tried  to  sleep. 
The  hotel  was  a  perfect  bedlam ;  the  streets  were  full 
of  all  sorts  of  noises ;  and  in  the  house  opposite  the 
narrow  passage  was  kept  up  a  constant  jabbering, 
which  reminded  me  of  the  hideous  jargon  of  the  North 
American  Indians,  and  more  than  once  did  I  dream  of 
the  scalping-knife  and  the  tomahawk,  and  start  up  to 
hear  the  merry  laugh  of  a  dozen  young  creatures,  who, 
a  few  feet  from  my  window,  in  the  next  hotel,  were 
shouting,  screaming,  yelling,  and  dancing  with  all  their 
might.  When  the  people  of  Genoa  sleep  I  do  not 
know,  but  presume,  from  what  I  saw,  that  they  are 
quite  successful  in  turning  night  into  day. 


LEGHORN— CIVITA  VECCHIA  — BAY  OF  NAPLES.     287 


XXII. 

LEGHORN  — PISA  — CIVIT A  VECCHIA  — BAY  OF  NAPLES. 

"We  took  the  steamer  from  Genoa  one  evening,  at  six 
o'clock,  with  the  fair  prospect  of  a  dreadfully  unfair 
night.  The  winds  howled ;  the  sky  was  dark  and 
overcast ;  and  the  waves  rolled  and  tumbled,  dashed 
forward  and  backward,  rose  and  fell,  as  if  angry  with 
themselves  and  the  little  puffing  steamer  which  was 
endeavoring  to  struggle  through  them.  Directly  over 
the  cabin,  in  which  about  thirty  of  us  were  pent  up, 
were  six  horses,  which  kept  up  a  continual  kicking 
within  a  few  inches  of  our  aching  heads.  Once,  dur- 
ing the  night,  the  stalls  in  which  they  were  confined 
gave  way,  and  the  affrighted  animals  went  capering 
about  the  deck,  to  the  consternation  of  the  passengers 
below,  who  knew  not  the  cause  of  the  commotion 
above.  The  whole  company,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
sprang  up,  supposing  we  were  going  to  the  bottom ; 
and  as  they  huddled  together  near  the  door,  jabbering 
in  five  or  six  different  languages,  the  scene  was  inde- 
scribably ludicrous.  Order  was  at  length  restored,  the 
horses  were  captured,  and  the  steamer,  in  due  form, 
went  bustling  into  Leghorn  about  sunrise.  At  the 
Hotel  San  Marco,  we  found  one  John  Smith,  who 
served  us  with  a  decent  breakfast,  after  which  we 
walked  about  the  town.  Leghorn  is  a  dull  place,  the 
stores  and  houses  all  bearing  marks  of  decay.  Busi- 
ness seems  to  be  stagnant  and  dead,  and  we  moved 
about  amid  deserted  habitations  and  silent  streets. 


288  EUROPA. 

About  twelve  miles  from  Leghorn  is  Pisa,  a  town  of 
much  interest,  containing  about  twenty-nine  thousand 
inhabitants,  out  to  which  we  went  in  the  cars.  The 
town  was  preparing  to  celebrate  the  day  of  its  patron 
saint,  which  is  the  16th  of  June.  A  grand  illumina- 
tion was  to  take  place,  and  such  preparations,  on  a 
scale  so  grand,  I  never  saw  before.  The  saint  to  be 
celebrated  is  San  Ranieri,  who  died  1356.  He  lived  a 
vile  and  wicked  life,  abandoned  by  God  and  all  things 
good.  Before  his  death,  however,  he  became  an  exam- 
ple of  piety.  "We  wash  we  could  say  as  much  for  all 
the  canonized  saints.  He  was  indefatigable  in  his  la- 
bors for  the  poor,  and  died  respected  and  beloved  by 
all.  The  preparations  made  to  celebrate  this  day  were 
fine.  Every  house  seemed  to  be  covered  with  frame- 
work from  which  floods  of  light  were  to  blaze  out. 

The  great  objects  of  interest  are  the  cathedral,  bap- 
tistry, leaning  tower,  and  Campo  Santo.  The  cathedral 
is  one  of  the  most  elegant  in  Italy.  The  doors  are  of 
massive  bronze  work.  The  interior  is  of  alternate 
layers  of  black  and  white  marble,  giving  it  a  unique 
appearance.  The  dome  is  finely  frescoed,  and  fine 
paintings  adorn  the  walls.  In  the  nave  hangs  sus- 
pended a  chandelier,  once  beautiful,  but  now  black  and 
time-worn,  and  suspended  from  the  center  of  the  dome 
above  by  a  black,  dirty  rope.  This  chandelier  suggest- 
ed to  Galileo  the  idea  of  the  pendulum,  which  has 
since  been  applied  to  so  much  advantage  to  the  world. 
The  pulpit  is  of  ancient  order,  and  is  a  superb  struc- 
ture of  richly-carved  marble ;  and  the  whole  church  is 
wealthy  with  paintings,  mosaics,  and  sculpture.  It  is 
in  the  form  of  a  Latin  cross,  and  is  bedecked  with  or- 
naments magnificent  and  costly.  Candles  burn  on  the 
altars,  and  music  echoes  along  the  deserted  aisles.     As 


LEGHOEN— CIVITA  VECCHIA  — BAY  OF  NAPLES.     289 

we  entered,  a  monk,  with  his  face  covered  with  a  black 
nightcap,  with  holes  for  his  hateful  eyes  to  glare  out, 
came  to  beg,  and,  in  a  piteous,  whining  tone,  entreated 
us  to  give  something  to  the  church. 

Near  the  duomo  is  the  baptistry,  which  was  built  in 
the  eleventh  century.  It  is  a  large  building,  in  the 
form  of  an  immense  dome,  which  rises  to  a  hight  of 
one  hundred  and  seventy-nine  feet.  The  external  and 
internal  appearance  of  the  structure  has  great  effect. 
The  pulpit  is  a  hexagon,  and  rests  upon  nine  pillars, 
and  is  covered  with  basso-rilievo  work.  The  basin  is  in 
the  middle,  and  is  large  enough  for  ten  or  fifteen  per- 
sons to  occupy  at  one  time.  The  whole  appearance  of 
the  basin  and  the  building  gi^^es  unequivocal  evidence 
that  immersion  was  here  performed.  The  same  remark 
may  be  made  of  the  baptistry  at  Florence,  which  is 
constructed  on  a  similar  plan. 

Close  at  hand  is  the  wonderful  leaning  tower,  which 
has  seven  bells,  and  is  two  hundred  and  seventy-eight 
feet  high.  We  ascend  by  a  winding  staircase,  and 
from  the  top  enjoy  a  fine  prospect  of  the  surrounding 
country.  The  deviation  is  from  fifteen  to  eighteen 
feet ;  and  as  I  stood  looking  down,  the  danger  of  fall- 
ing appeared  so  great,  that  I  was  glad  to  descend  as 
soon  as  }30ssible.  One  naturally  clings  to  the  rail  of 
the  gallery  as  he  looks  down  from  the  dizzy  elevation 
upon  the  earth  beneath,  which  seems  to  be  passing 
from  under  him.  Whether  the  tower  was  built  as  it 
is,  in  a  leaning  position,  or  whether  the  foundations 
have  settled,  is  a  matter  of  question,  nor  can  an  exam- 
ination settle  the  point.  I  incline  to  the  latter  opinion, 
which  accords  with  the  view  taken  by  most  travelers. 

This  group  of  buildings,  with  the  Campo  Santo, 
forms  one  of  the  most  interesting  objects  of  study  and 
37  y 


290  EUROPA. 

interest  that  can  be  found  in  Italy.  The  leaning  tower 
is  in  itself  a  wonder,  and  the  whole  group,  where  mil- 
lions of  dollars  have  been  expended,  deserves  a  visit 
from  every  person  who  goes  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  the  spot. 

Returning  to  Leghorn  a  while,  we  wandered  about, 
and  at  length  went  down  to  the  steamer,  determined 
never  to  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  that  place  again.  The 
ways  in  which  the  people  contrive  to  get  at  the  pockets 
of  the  traveler  are  legion.  You  are  compelled  to  pay 
as  you  enter  the  port,  and  as  you  leave  it ;  as  you  go  to 
a  hotel,  and  when  you  come  away,  shaking  off  the  dust 
of  your  feet.  You  can  neither  eat,  drink,  or  sleep, 
walk,  or  play,  without  being  charged  for  it.  Contrary 
to  our  expectations,  we  were  thrown  into  this  place 
again,  a  while  after,  and  took  breakfast  at  Hotel  du 
Nord,  where  we  were  detained,  abused,  fleeced,  and,  at 
length,  fed.  Before  we  went  away,  the  keeper  of  the 
hotel,  or  rather  a  servant,  for  the  keeper  was  a  woman, 
requested  us  to  write  some  recommendation  in  his  com- 
monplace book,  that  he  might  show  it  to  other  Ameri- 
can travelers  who  should  happen  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  official  and  unofficial  plunderers  of  Leghorn. 
This  was  too  much ;  and  one  of  our  company  sat  down 
and  wrote  the  following  lines,  to  which  we  all  appended 
our  names :  — 

Five  strangers,  from  a  foreign  shore, 
Took  breakfast  at  Hotel  du  Nord ; 
Our  names,  which  may  be  found  bel«>w, 
Our  homes  and  destination  show. 
We've  had  our  trials  and  vexations, 
Delayed  by  Tuscan  regulations. 
Taxed,  cheated,  foiled  at  every  stage, 
Scarce  can  we  contain  our  rage. 
Patience  ;  a  few  short  months,  and  we 
Shall  hail  a  land  of  Liberty. 


LEGHORN  — CIVITA   VECCHIA  — BAY  OF  N.\PLES.     291 

We  gave  the  book  to  the  servant,  who  could  not 
read  a  word  of  it,  and,  supposing  it  to  be,  instead  of 
the  truth  as  it  was,  a  lying  compliment  to  his  house, 
done  up  in  i)oetry,  and  signed  by  five  respectable 
names,  took  it  with  a  profusion  of  bows  and  nods, 
unintelligible  thanks,  and  gracious  smiles. 

Leaving  Leghorn,  after  our  first  visit,  we  set  sail  for 
Civita  Vecchia.  As  we  went  out  of  the  harbor,  a 
boat  manned  with  galley  slaves  rowed  across  our  bows. 
There  were  fifteen  of  them,  chained  together,  and  to 
the  boat.  They  were  dressed  in  red  flannel  frocks,  and 
wore  caps  of  the  same  material.  They  were  all  mur- 
derers ;  and  it  would  be  interesting  to  converse  with 
them,  and  draw  out  the  personal  history  of  each,  and 
learn  how,  step  by  step,  the  amiable  and  virtuous  young 
man  descended  from  respectability  to  the  daring  deed 
for  which  he  wears  the  chain  and  lives  in  prison. 

CIVITA    VECCHIA, 

the  next  town  at  which  the  steamer  stops,  is  one  of  the 
most  disagreeable  in  Italy.  I  said  there  was  one  place 
worse  than  Avignon  ;  this  is  it.  We  were  not  allowed 
to  land  on  our  way  down  the  coast,  but  unfortunately 
went  there  on  our  return.  We  arrived  in  a  dili- 
gence from  Rome  about  midnight,  and  pursued  our 
way  to  the  Hotel  Orlando,  the  best  in  the  place,  but 
wonderfully  poor  at  that.  We  found  all  asleep ;  but, 
by  storming  the  citadel,  we  at  length  aroused  the  in- 
mates, who  came  down  to  us  grumbling  and  scolding 
in  a  most  furious  manner.  By  dint  of  Italian,  French, 
English,  and  Cossack,  we  finally  made  them  understand 
that  we  wished  to  go  to  bed ;  but  for  a  long  time  it 
remained  doubtful  whether  we  should  succeed.  An- 
tonio called  to  Alfieri,  and  Alfieri  shouted  to   Scipio 


292  EUROPA 

and  Pompeius,  and  they  together  ran  after  Signore, 
who  came,  at  length,  and  put  us  four  into  two  as  dirty 
chambers  as  was  ever  the  lot  of  unoffending  travelers 
to  fall  into.  However,  we  had  each  a  bed,  minus 
sheets  and  pillows  ;  and,  as  the  insides  were  altogether 
too  bad,  we  threw  ourselves  upon  the  outsides,  and  in 
a  moment  were  as  comfortably  asleej)  as  filth  and  fleas 
would  allow.  We  might  have  remained  asleep  about 
ten  minutes,  when  a  disturbance  in  the  entry  gave  signs 
of  an  assault  upon  our  dormitory.  A  violent  pounding 
upon  the  door  was  heard,  and  a  man  and  Avoman,  in  an 
unknown  tongue,  demanded  admittance.  What  was 
to  pay  we  did  not  know,  and,  for  a  while,  we  let  them 
work.  But  it  was  "  no  go,"  and  my  companion,  in  no 
enviable  mood,  sprang  from  the  bed,  exclaiming,  "  I'll 
know  what  the  matter  is  ! "  and,  throwing  open  the 
door,  he  confronted  the  servants,  with  sheets  and  pil- 
lows for  our  beds.  Giving  them  a  good  round  scolding, 
of  which  they  understood  not  a  word,  he  shoved  the 
door  in  their  faces,  turned  the  key,  and  threw  himself 
upon  the  bed,  which  creaked  and  groaned  beneath  the 
burden,  while  the  discomfited  servants  went  away  puz- 
zled to  know  why  Signore  should  wish  to  sleep  in  a 
bed  full  of  fleas  without  sheets. 

In  the  morning,  our  baggage  was  examined  by  the 
custom-house  oflfi.cers.  Mine  passed  without  much 
trouble;  but  a  friend  had  in  his  trunk  an  oration 
which  he  had  delivered  a  while  since  in  New  York, 
before  some  society  that  requested  its  publication. 
The  official  found  a  copy  of  this  printed  document, 
and  thumbed  it  over  a  while  without  being  able  to 
know  whether  it  was  incendiary  or  not.  His  eye  was 
attracted  by  the  word  "  Society,"  on  the  title  page,  and 
his  mmd  conjured  up  some  terrible  danger  in  having 


LEGHORN  — CIVITA  VECCHIA  — BAY  OF  NAPLES.     293 

that  little  pamphlet  m  a  man's  trunk  gohig  through 
Italy.  Thus  he  detained  us  an  hour  or  two,  when  he 
told  the  owner  to  call  at  the  police  office  at  a  given 
hour,  —  I  believe  the  next  day,  —  and  he  could  have  his 
book.  But  we  declined  waiting  so  long  ;  and  for  aught 
I  know,  the  authorities  of  that  abominable  place  are 
gravely  investigating  the  contents  of  my  friend's  ora- 
tion up  to  the  present  time. 

Pursuing  our  way  down  the  Mediterranean,  we  at 
length  arrived  at  Naples.  We  were  called  up  at  sun- 
rise to  gaze  upon  the  finest  prospect  ever  presented 
to  mortal  sight.  We  had  passed  a  troublous  night. 
Nameless  insects  had  been  disturbing  our  dreams,  and 
it  was  with  unfeigned  delight  that  we  heard  the  cry, 
"  All  up !  We  are  entering  the  bay."  I  went  on  deck  ; 
and  though  I  had  expected  a  beautiful  view,  the  reality 
more  than  equaled  the  idea  which  I  had  pictured  to 
my  imagination.  The  full,  yellow  moon  was  setting 
behind  us,  in  the  dim  and  shadowy  west.  On  one  side 
was  Naples,  and  all  around  the  watery  amphitheater 
were  stretched  goodly  cities  in  one  continuous  and  un- 
broken course.  In  the  background  towers  Vesuvius, 
the  object  of  deepest  interest,  like  a  giant  amid  its 
rocky  compeers,  a  dim  and  indistinct  cloud  hovering 
around  its  summit.     The  first  view  of  Vesuvius  was 

not  what  I  had  imagined ;  and  Rev.  Mr. ,  at  my 

side,  exclaimed,  "What  a  cheat!"  and  turned  away, 
half  vexed  that  the  old  mountain  was  not  bellowino-, 
and  thundering,  and  pouring  down  its  torrents  of  lava 
upon  the  plains  below.  We  were  all  unprepared  for 
its  quiet,  modest,  inviting  look,  though  we  might  have 
expected  it.  But  as  we  gazed,  the  peak  seemed  to  rise 
higher,  the  cloud  appeared  to  expand,  and  in  a  little 
while,  with  the  slight  aid  of  imagination,  I  confess  I 


294  EUROPA. 

had  the  Vesuvius  of  "  the  books  "  before  me,  and  was 
disappointed  no  longer. 

The  Bay  of  Naples,  gazed  upon  from  the  sea,  or  from 
the  surrounding  shores,  is  an  object  of  great  interest ; 
and  long  we  stood  enraptured  with  the  charming  ar- 
rangements of  nature  and  art.  The  beauty  of  the  bay 
arises  from  a  variety  of  circumstances.  Its  form  is  reg- 
ularly curved,  and  all  around  are  shining  palaces,  look- 
ing down  upon  its  shores,  and  off  upon  its  waters. 
Behind  the  towns  and  villages,  the  hills  and  mountains 
rise  abruptly,  and  seem  to  stand  as  high  towers  charged 
with  molten  torrents,  which  they  are  ready  to  pour  out 
upon  the  surrounding  country. 

On  reaching  the  harbor  of  Naples,  we  were  per- 
plexed a  while  with  the  inconvenient  and  unnecessary 
arrangements  of  the  port.  Every  thing  seems  to  be 
designed  to  extract  money  from  the  traveler,  and  de- 
lay him  in  his  journey.  The  landlords  and  the  police 
seem  to  have  entered  into  copartnership  to  pillage  the 
purses  of  all  who  wish  to  enter  the  city.  We  escaped, 
at  length,  from  the  "  port  plague,"  and  soon  found  our- 
selves in  a  comfortable  hotel,  where  the  gentlemanly 
proprietor  used  every  endeavor  to  render  our  visit 
agreeable. 

Naples  has  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
inhabitants,  and  is  a  very  fine  city.  On  approaching  it 
from  the  sea,  one  would  hardly  imagine  how  many  hu- 
man beings  are  huddled  together.  The  streets  are 
narrow ;  the  houses  rise  story  on  story,  until  they  lose 
themselves  from  the  view  of  the  gazer,  and  both  streets 
and  houses  are  crowded  with  as  miserable  and  dirty  a 
class  of  beings  as  can  be  found  in  Italy.  The  lower 
order  of  Neapolitans  are  very  meanly  clad,  and  ap- 
proach   a    step    nearer    barbarism    than    any  I   had 


LEGHORN— CIVITA   VECCHIA  — BAY   OF  NAPLES.     295 

previously  seen.  The  men  wear  a  coarse  crash  shirt, 
with  coarse  trowsers,  which  are  tied  around  the  waist 
with  a  cord.  An  old  straw  hat  completes  the  rig.  The 
legs  and  feet,  from  the  knees  downward,  the  arms, 
from  the  elbows,  and  the  shoulders,  brown  and  sun- 
burnt, are  generally  uncovered.  As  to  shoes,  they  are 
a  luxury  or  a  superfluity  which  the  poorer  people  sel- 
dom indulge  in.  The  women  dress  correspondingly, 
and  are  seen  moving  through  the  streets  singing,  with 
loads  upon  their  shoulders  which  would  almost  break 
the  back  of  a  donkey. 

The  better  class,  however,  dress  very  neatly ;  and  on 
gala  days  the  crowded  streets  present  a  gay  and  bril- 
liant spectacle.  The  soldiers  in  uniform,  with  waving 
plumes,  and  the  young  women,  with  their  muslin  scarfs, 
and  gay,  laughing  features,  give  a  showy  appearance  to 
the  whole  town. 

I  found  a  home  for  a  few  days  at  "  Hotel  de  New 
York,"  my  windows  looking  out  upon  the  mountain 
and  the  bay.  Hour  after  hour  have  I  sat  and  gazed 
upon  that  fine  sheet  of  water,  terminated  on  the  right 
by  Cape  Misenum,  and  on  the  left  by  Cape  Minerva, 
and  closed  in  and  guarded  by  the  Island  of  Capri, 
while  a  succession  of  hills  sloping  to  its  shores  forms 
what  the  Neapolitans  call  the  "  water  crater." 

The  city  of  Naples  is  twelve  miles  in  circuit,  with 
ample  fortifications ;  three  hundred  churches ;  forty 
asylums  for  the  poor  and  orphans ;  with  a  vast  variety 
of  objects  connected  with  the  past  and  the  present,  to 
interest  the  traveler,  and  make  him  feel  that  the  sen- 
timent of  the  Neapolitan  enthusiast,  who  exclaims, 
^'^Vedi  Napoli^  e  poi  mori"  is  not  altogether  a  vain 
boast,  or  a  mistaken  idea,  as  we  shall  find  in  a  few 
succeeding  chapters. 


296  EUEOPA. 


XXIII. 

RAMBLES   AROUND  NAPLES. 

Having  secured  lodgings  in  the  city,  we  engaged  a 
valet  de  |j?ace,  who  told  us  to  call  him  Joseph,  and 
went  out  to  explore  the  old  ruins  in  the  vicinity. 
The  city  was  very  gay  and  cheerful,  it  being  the  feast 
day  of  some  saint,  whose  name  and  virtues  I  did  not 
learn.  The  streets  were  full  of  people,  and  it  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  we  threaded  our  way  out  into  the 
country.  The  festivity  of  the  occasion  brought  out  in 
squadron  the  famous  Italian  lazzaroni,  who  met  us  at 
every  step,  and  ran  along  after  us,  sometimes  for  miles. 
This  class  of  persons  are  a  great  source  of  annoyance 
to  travelers.  They  rush  out  from  the  roadside,  men, 
women,  and  children,  uttering  the  most  piteous  cries, 
and  hold  up  a  torn  hat  or  a  filthy  hand  to  receive 
the  penny  which  you  throw  into  it.  Of  all  the  speci- 
mens of  humanity  I  ever  saw,  these  were  the  most  mis- 
erable. Deformed,  crippled,  bleeding,  they  were  at 
once  the  most  disgusting  and  pitiable  creatures  imagi- 
nable. Suffering  and'  dying  by  the  wayside,  they  cast 
imploring  looks  and  utter  imploring  cries  to  every  trav- 
eler. No  human  heart  can  withstand  the  appeals  made 
by  these  objects  of  destitution  and  want.  But  while 
many  are  really  needy,  the  great  mass  are  undeserving 
of  charity.  They  are  strong  men  and  women,  who 
might  work  if  they  were  disposed,  but  prefer  to  prac- 
tice imposition  upon  the  stranger.     They  perform  all 


RAMBLES   AROUND   NAPLES.  297 

kinds  of  tricks  to  secure  a  little  money,  and  are  ready 
to  steal  at  the  most  favorable  opportunity.  We  saw 
blind  beggars  who  could  see  if  a  piece  of  foreign  money 
was  given  them ;  cripples  who  could  run  faster  than 
our  horses  while  there  remained  the  least  chance  of 
their  receiving  a  gift ;  dumb  men  who  could  curse  you 
in  two  or  three  different  languages  if  you  refused  to 
aid  them. 

Escaping  from  these,  and  riding  by  the  palaces  of  the 
king,  the  theaters,  and  several  noble  buildings,  we  leave 
the  city  by  the  grotto  of  Posilippo,  a  road  dug  out 
under  a  mountain,  half  a  mile  long,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  high,  and  wide  enough  for  three  carriages  to 
drive  abreast.  It  was  hewn  out  at  an  immense  expense 
of  time  and  labor,  and  was  probably  the  work  of  slaves ; 
perhaps  of  the  early  Christians,  who,  incurring  the 
displeasure  of  the  pagans,  were  sent  here  to  toil  and 
die  on  the  public  road.  As  we  entered  the  grotto  or 
tunnel,  a  hermit  rushed  out,  an  odd-looking,  dehuman- 
ized being,  who  besought  charity.  We  gave  him  a 
contemptuous  look,  and  drove  on. 

Emerging  from  the  grotto,  we  ride  through  a  coun- 
try which  bears  various  marks  of  volcanic  influence. 
Hills  have  been  cast  up  rudely  by  the  wayside,  and 
mountains  overhang  which  look  as  if  they  had  recently 
been  disgorged  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The 
ruins  of  houses  wdiich  have  been  shaken  down  by 
eruptions  appear  along  the  way,  broken  aqueducts  and 
baths,  and  all  the  evidences  of  spoiled  art  and  ruined 
luxury.  On  the  side  of  one  of  these  volcanic  hills  we 
saw  at  work,  hewing  stone,  a  party  of  convicts,  clad  in 
thin  blue  clothes,  with  a  chain  passing  from  the  waist 
to  the  foot.  These  convicts  are  not  obliged  to  w^ork. 
They  receive  pay  for  what  they  do  —  five  or  six  cents 
38 


298  EUEOPA. 

a  day.  Those  who  are  laborious  and  diligent  are  re- 
leased, about  one  fourth  of  their  time  being  remitted. 
Thus,  if  a  man  is  sentenced  for  twelve  years,  he  not 
only  receives  his  wages,  but  is  liberated  at  the  expira- 
tion of  nine  years.  A  guard  of  soldiers  were  stationed 
over  them,  so  as  to  render  escape  impossible. 

After  an  hour's  ride,  we  arrived  at  the  ancient  town 
of  Puteoli,  where  Paul  tarried  seven  days,  when  he  was 
on  his  way  to  Rome.  The  old  Bridge  of  Caligula,  now 
in  ruins,  remains,  and  the  pier  at  which  Paul  landed  is 
pointed  out.  The  path  which  led  to  the  Appian  "Way, 
and  that  famous  old  road  itself,  are  visible.  I  seemed 
to  dream,  to  be  so  near  scenes  and  places  consecrated 
by  their  connection  with  the  labors  and  suiFerings  of 
the  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles.  The  interest  felt  in 
palaces,  cathedrals,  and  volcanoes  died  away  when  we 
arrived  amid  the  memorials  of  the  servant  of  Jesus. 

Passing  through  Puteoli,  we  rode  along  the  bor- 
ders of  Lake  Avernus,  surrounded  by  forests  in  which 
Strabo  says  the  Cimmerians,  a  race  of  fortune-tellers, 
lived  in  caves  never  lighted  by  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
On  the  banks  is  the  Temple  of  Apollo,  where  JEneas 
Avent  to  consult  the  sibyls  and  the  gods  ;  and  the  forest 
behind  is  that  in  which  he  found  the  golden  branch. 
The  lake  is  small,  its  noxious  gases  said  to  be  fatal 
to  the  respiration  of  birds,  and  its  depth  eighty-fi^^e 
fathoms.  It  is  a  very  respectable  frog  pond,  and  is 
more  romantic  in  the  lays  of  the  old  poets  than  in  any 
reality. 

We  went  down  into  Sibyls'  Cave,  which  retreats 
from  the  shores  of  Averno,  and  enters  the  bowels  of 
the  mountain.  Leaving  the  glorious  sunlight,  the  clear 
air,  and  the  beautiful  scenes  of  nature,  we  took  torches 
made  of  hemp,  rosin,  and  tar,  four  feet  long  and  two 


RAMBLES  AROUND   NAPLES.  299 

inches  square,  and  descended  through  a  long,  dark  pas- 
sage, begrimed  with  soot  and  smoke,  slimy  and  slippery, 
damp  as  death,  and  hissing  with  reptiles.  This  long 
passage  leads  to  the  Chambers  and  Baths  of  the  Sibyls, 
which  were  once  dry,  and  beautifully  decorated  and 
frescoed.  By  a  late  irruption,  water  has  been  let  in  to 
the  depth  of  about  two  feet.  We  were  forced  to  ex- 
plore these  chambers  on  the  shoulders  of  men.  Sev- 
eral hideous,  dirty,  filthy-looking  old  fellows  had  fol- 
lowed us  some  miles  for  the  purpose  of  taking  us  in ; 
and  when  we  had  reached  the  water,  we  mounted  each 
the  shoulders  of  a  cicerone,  and  on  we  went.  The 
scene  was  a  most  laughable  one,  and,  withal,  somewhat 
serious.  The  waters  splash,  as  the  men  pass  along ; 
the  torches  gleam  and  cast  out  an  unearthly  light ;  our 
human  horses  keep  up  an  incessant  sound,  half  way 
between  a  snort  and  a  groan  ;  and  the  caverns  below 
us  seem  to  echo  with  the  music  of  the  sibyls,  whose 
beautiful  forms  have  departed,  but  whose  spirit  voices 
seem  to  linsrer  in  their  ancient  halls,  I  do  not  wonder 
that  one  traveler  who  went  in  in  this  way  began  to 
"  imagine  that  he  was  sitting  astride  the  devil's  neck, 
and  being  borne  along  the  road  to  the  infernal  world." 

Our  friends  at  home  would  have  enjoyed  the  spectacle, 
could  they  have  stood  in  the  Sibyls'  Chamber,  and  seen 

us  enter — Mr. dragging  his  legs  in  the  water, 

and  Rev.  Dr.  M.  striking  his  nice  white  hat  against  the 
smutty  ceiling,  until  it  was  nearer  black  than  white, 
each  holding  on  to  the  grizzly  hair  of  the  animal  we 
rode,  expecting  every  moment  he  would  stumble  and 
pitch  us  we  knew  not  where. 

Having  reached  the  chambers,  we  reposed  a  while 
where  once  Nero  came  to  see  the  sibyls ;  then  remount- 
ing, we  soon  found  ourselves  again  in  the  world,  safe 


300  EUROPA. 

escaped  from  Tartarus,  well  satisfied  with  our  ride  and 
with  what  we  had  seen.  The  men  who  had  run  after 
our  carriage,  and  had  carried  us  down  into  the  cave, 
demanded  only  a  few  cents  for  their  labor,  which  we 
cheerfully  paid,  though  I  freely  confess  that  riding  such 
horses  is  not  to  my  taste. 

Leaving  the  lake,  we  passed  on  to  the  Baths  of  Nero, 
where  a  rude  old  man,  stripping  off  his  clothes,  de- 
scended ninety  feet,  by  a  winding  passage,  and  came 
back  covered  with  perspiration,  and  fainting  with  ex- 
haustion, bringing  a  bucket  of  boiling  water  from  the 
boiling  springs,  in  which  we  cooked  an  e^^.  We  could 
not  enter  ten  feet  without  being  driven  back  by  the 
sulphureous  heat  which  is  emitted  by  the  volcanic  ele- 
ments below.  Two  or  three  rooms  remain,  and  exhibit 
traces  of  former  beauty  and  art ;  but  the  whole  grotto 
now  bears  more  of  the  appearance  of  being  the  cave  of 
some  frightful  hag,  who  lives  upon  the  fears  of  others, 
than  the  royal  baths  of  a  great  emperor. 

Moving  on,  we  came  in  succession  to  the  Temples  of 
Diana,  Mercury,  and  Venus,  which  are  now  in  ruins, 
and  have  few  traces  of  their  former  magnificence.  The 
capille  de  Venus,  or  "  Venus  hair,"  is  creeping  over 
the  broken  walls,  and  covers  the  spot  where  once  stood 
the  altar.  The  green  lizard  and  the  asp  have  made 
their  abodes  here,  and  the  hollow  echo  of  the  past 
comes  back  from  the  walls  and  broken  domes.  We 
reach  next  the  Baths  of  Venus,  which  retain  more  of 
their  original  beauty,  and  which,  with  the  spacious 
anterooms,  are  covered  with  bass-reliefs  and  frescoes 
of  much  perfection. 

We  next  reach  the  immense  reservoir  connected  with 
the  Julian  Port.  This  vast  relic  of  Roman  times  was 
built  to  supply  fresh  water  to  the  fleet  which  anchored 


RAMBLES  AROUND   NAPLES.  301 

in  the  bay.  The  water  was  brought  from  the  higher 
land,  and  here  reserved  until  it  should  be  needed.  The 
arches  of  the  reservoir  are  supported  on  forty-six  im- 
mense pillars,  and  the  whole  structure  must  have  re- 
quired a  great  amount  of  labor  and  time.  In  this 
vicinity  are  the  Elysian  Fields  and  the  River  Styx, 
immortalized  by  Virgil,  and  so  often  sighed  over  by 
romantic  young  men,  when  they  begin  to  read  the 
classics. 

Nero's  prisons  are  also  near.  They  look  like  the 
bloody  monster  —  fit  memorials  of  his  fiendish  cru- 
elty. His  baths,  hot  and  cold,  were  not  enough  to 
wash  his  stains  away.  We  reach  the  entrance  of  the 
prisons,  or  Hundred  Chambers,  as  they  are  called,  by  a 
long,  narrow  street,  in  which  half-naked  men  and  wo- 
men are  at  work,  play,  or  asleep,  lying  down  on  the 
side  of  the  way,  with  pigs  and  dogs,  defying  you,  in 
many  cases,  to  tell  which  is  man  and  which  is  beast. 
The  prisons  are  under  the  spot  where  once  stood  the 
villa  in  which  lived  Julius  Caesar,  and  in  which  Nero 
killed  his  mother,  like  the  fiend  he  was.  It  does  not 
remain  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  wrongs  com- 
mitted in  it ;  they  are  recorded  on  the  pages  of  history. 
We  entered  several  of  the  chambers.  They  are  about 
eight  feet  wide  and  twenty  long.  A  passage  leads  from 
these  prisons,  which  are  wholly  under  ground,  to  the 
sea,  through  which  prisoners  were  taken,  and  cast 
down,  mangled  and  torn,  into  the  waters  beneath. 
The  very  walls  seem  to  sweat  blood,  as  we  passed  from 
dungeon  to  dungeon,  unadorned  by  a  window  or  inlet 
for  the  fresh  air,  and  lighted  only  by  the  flambeau  car- 
ried by  our  guide.  •  Criminals  and  Christians,  confined 
for  vices  and  virtues,  have  died  here,  and  these  walls 
have  echoed  with  curses  and  prayers. 

z 


302  EUROPA. 

As  we  came  down  the  hill,  we  stopx^ed  a  while  to 
rest  at  the  door  of  a  tolerable-looking  house,  and  in  a 
moment  were  surrounded  with  women  and  young  girls. 
I  counted  twenty-one  at  a  time,  varying  from  ten  to 
ninety  years  of  age.  Their  object  was  to  beg,  which 
they  did  in  an  unknown  tongue.  One  or  two  young 
girls  went  away  and  brought  us  simple  bouquets  of 
flowers,  which  they  wished  us  to  purchase.  These  bou- 
quets were  of  the  rudest  character,  and  some  of  them 
as  unsavory  as  mullen.  When  we  left,  two  young 
creatures  ran  by  the  side  of  our  carriage  nearly  two 
miles.  One  of  them  was  begging  for  my  handkerchief, 
which  I  certainly  should  have  thrown  to  her,  had  I  not 
been  so  far  from  another,  and  the  day  was  so  hot,  that 
such  an  article  was  indispensable.  She  was  a  dark- 
complexioned,  black-haired  creature,  with  eyes  fit  for  a 
princess,  which  sparkled  as  she  ran  along  the  road, 
casting  up  the  dirt  with  her  bare  feet,  and  tossing  back 
the  hair  from  an  intellectual  forehead. 

On  returning  towards  Naples,  we  visited  several 
ruins  at  Pozzuoli  —  the  ruined  Temple  of  Justice,  with 
its  marble  pavements,  its  broken  columns,  forty-two  of 
which  were  from  the  land  of  mythology,  the  large  basin 
yet  remaining  in  which  the  blood  of  human  victims  was 
caught,  its  arena  and  its  marble  seats  almost  as  perfect 
as  ever.  The  Temple  of  Neptune,  a  vast  edifice,  gives 
one  a  good  idea  of  an  old  Roman  amj^hitheater.  Its 
form  is  oval,  and  the  walls  rise  ninety  feet  from  the 
level  of  the  arena.  Seats  are  all  around,  rising  one 
ibove  another  to  the  top  of  the  wall ;  and  a  canvas 
was  stretched  over  the  whole,  for  a  roof  to  protect  from 
the  sun.  Twelve  thouoand  persons  could  be  seated 
with  ease,  and  perhaps  many  more.  In  vaults  below 
were    cells   and   dungeons,  in  which   men   and   beasts 


RAMBLES  AROUND  NAPLES.  303 

were  kept  preparatory  to  the  gladiatorial  exhibitions. 
On  a  slide,  or  elevator,  they  were  lifted  up  into  the 
arena,  and  man  and  beast  stood  face  to  face.  Many  a 
Christian  has  been  torn  to  pieces  on  this  pavement, 
while  his  death  cries  have  furnished  amusement  for 
the  degraded  people.  The  very  cell  in  which  St.  Jan- 
uary, the  idol  of  the  people,  was  chained,  is  pointed 
out,  and  the  pillar,  now  fallen,  is  shown  us.  Every 
cell  has  some  tale  of  horror  to  unfold,  and  every  pillar 
yet  seems  to  groan  beneath  the  silent  inscriptions 
which  are  upon  it. 

Leaving  old  temples,  all  in  ruins,  of  the  description 
of  which  you  may  already  be  weary,  we  come  to  Lake 
Agnano,  a  sheet  of  water  about  three  miles  in  circum- 
ference, situated  near  Pozzuoli.  The  lake  is  in  the 
bed  of  an  extinct  and  settled  volcano,  and  the  waters 
are  very  deep.  At  every  eruption  of  Vesuvius,  these 
waters  rise  and  fall,  showing  a  connection  with  the 
awful  doings  of  that  volcano,  though  it  is  between 
twenty  and  thirty  miles  distant. 

On  the  shores  of  the  lake  are  several  grottoes,  which 
are  objects  of  considerable  curiosity.  One,  the  Cavern 
of  Charon,  now  the  "  Dog  Grotto,"  ^  derives  its  name 
from  the  fact  that  dogs  are  here  made  the  subject  of  a 
curious  experiment.  In  this  cave,  a  vapor  rises  from 
the  ground  which  is  fatal  to  life.  A  torch  brought 
into  contact  with  it  is  immediately  extinguished,  and  a 
dog  bound  and  thrown  upon  the  ground  will  die  in  two 
minutes.  The  dog  that  was  put  in  on  the  occasion  of 
our  visit  remained  about  eighty  seconds,  and  was,  at  the 
expiration,  unable  to  rise.  A  pistol,  loaded  in  the  best 
manner,  would  not  discharge  itself  when  held  near  the 
ground. 

'  Grotta  del  Cane. 


304  EUROPA. 

Near  by  is  an  "  Ammonia  Grotto,"  or  a  cave  in  which 
ammonia  gas  rises  from  the  ground.  The  earth  is  cold, 
and  yet  an  intense  heat  arises  from  it ;  and,  though  no 
draught  of  wind  can  be  perceived,  one  feels  all  the  heat 
and  gentle  influence  which  are  derived  while  standing 
over  the  register  of  a  large  furnace.  The  effect  of  in- 
haling the  gas  is  highly  exhilarating,  and  one  would 
soon  become  intoxicated,  as  with  opium  or  'sther. 
When  I  came  out,  my  head  felt  dizzy,  my  feet  light, 
and  for  a  moment  they  seemed  debating  whether  they 
should  not  exchange  places  with  each  other ;  but  the 
fresh  air  soon  decided  in  favor  of  the  old  way. 

On  the  shores  of  this  lake  are  sulphur  baths,  where 
one  needs  no  fire  to  keep  him  warm.  The  apartments 
are  small,  rude,  and  covered  with  incrustations  and  saline 
deposits,  and  are  formed  by  the  sulphureous  gases,  and 
it  was  not  difficult  to  imagine  how  soon  a  confinement 
in  one  of  them  would  scorch  the  rheumatism  out  of  a 
poor  man's  limbs,  or  sweat  the  palsy  out  of  his  painless 
sides.  The  idea,  however,  of  "taking  a  sweat"  in  one 
of  the  drawing-rooms  of  Mount  Vesuvius  is  somewhat 
novel.  The  region  all  around  is  volcanic ;  and,  in 
many  places,  the  earth  is  so  warm,  that,  a  few  inches 
below  the  surface,  the  hand  cannot  be  laid  upon  it. 
There  are  also  old  Roman  remains,  which  yet  linger 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  past. 

As  we  rode  into  Naples,  after  a  visit  to  Agnano,  we 
saw  a  novel  and  characteristic  exhibition  of  the  Catho- 
lic religion.  Just  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  a  wooden 
cross,  with  a  representation  of  our  Savior  hanging  upon 
it,  was  set  ux^.  The  whole  figure  was  exceedingly  rude 
and  uncomely,  and  looked  like  any  thing  but  the  Savior 
of  the  world.  A  priest  was  on  a  little  elevated  plat- 
form beside  it,  declaiming  vehemently,  and  frequently 


RAMBLES   AROUND  NAPLES.  305 

pointing,  with  a  look  of  rage  or  sorrow,  to  the  crucifix. 
As  his  speech  went  on,  two  monkish-looking  creatures 
were  handing  round  the  plate  for  the  carlines.  The 
people  were  uncovered,  and  the  rude  rabble  who  swept 
by  took  off  their  hats,  and  murmured  some. word  of 
approbation,  as  they  passed.  The  two  monks  stopped 
all  who  were  willing  to  contribute ;  and  if  begging  is 
any  evidence  of  devotion,  they  were  eminently  pious. 
With  long  faces,  they  moved  about  among  the  crowd, 
thrusting  the  plate  into  the  eyes  of  every  one  who 
looked  as  if  he  was  the  possessor  of  a  single  piece  of 
money,  uttering  a  sort  of' whine,  which  evidently  was 
meant  for  an  expression  of  religious  fervency.  Our 
guide  uncovered  his  head  as  we  passed,  but  told  us, 
when  we  were  out  of  the  way,  that  he  had  no  faith  in 
that  scene,  though  he  acknowledged  himself  to  be  a 
devout  Catholic. 

39  z* 


306  EUKOPA. 


XXIV. 

THE  CHURCHES  OF  NAPLES. 

When  Sabbath  dawned  upon  us  in  Na^Dles,  the  ques- 
tion arose,  "What  shall  we  do,  and  where  shall  we 
go  1 "  and,  after  a  consultation,  we  concluded  to  spend 
the  day  in  visiting  the  churches  and  cemeteries  —  about 
as  good  use  as  we  could  make  of  the  Lord's  day  in 
such  a  city.  The  churches  here  are  finer  than  those 
we  saw  in  Rome,  with  a  few  exceptions.  They  are 
spacious  and  splendid,  filled  with  costly  ornaments,  and 
glittering  with  the  wealth  of  ages.  The  effect,  as  we 
entered  the  Church  of  the  Jesuits,  was  almost  overpow- 
ering. On  an  altar  near  the  door  was  stretched  a  wax 
figure,  which  was  laid  out  in  lifelike  resemblance  of 
the  Savior.  The  head  was  covered  with  thorns ;  the 
blood  was  oozing  from  the  side ;  and  around,  above, 
and  beneath  flashed  out  a  hundred  lights  upon  the 
dim  shadows  of  the  church.  The  sacrament  was  being 
administered  by  a  priest  who  was  arrayed  in  most 
costly  robes.  Around  the  altar  were  about  two  hun- 
dred persons,  who  were  on  their  knees.  A  golden 
plate  was  handed  to  one,  Avho  held  it  under  his  chin 
while  the  wafer  was  laid  upon  his  tongue.  When  he 
was  sure  that  the  article  was  safe,  the  plate  was  handed 
to  the  next  person,  and  so  on.  Crowds  were  coming 
and  going  all  the  time,  and  when  one  priest  became 
weary,  another  took  his  place.  All  around  the  church 
were  confessionals,  in  which  were  kneeling  penitents 


THE  CHURCHES  OF  NAPLES.  307 

ensasred  in  devotional  exercises.  I  noticed  here  that 
no  woman  came  to  the  sacrament  with  her  head 
uncovered.  If  she  came  in  with  uncovered  head,  as 
was  frequently  the  case,  having  on  no  bonnet,  she 
threw  her  scarf  or  handkerchief  over  her  head  while 
kneeling  at  the  altar.  Forty-six  Jesuits  are  said  to  be 
in  attendance  upon  this  church  all  the  time.  Their 
cloisters  are  near  at  hand,  and  they  live  in  idleness  and 
crime. 

The  next  church^  we  visited  —  no  matter  for  the 
name  —  was  founded  by  Charles  of  Anjou,  and  is  one 
of  the  finest  I  saw  on  the  continent,  and  is  under  the 
care  of  the  monks,  who  have  a  convent  adjoining.  The 
eye  could  turn  in  no  direction,  from  the  pavement  be- 
neath to  the  ceiling  above,  without  resting  on  marble, 
silver,  or  gold.  Ten  thousand  men  could  move  about 
with  ease  beneath  the  bending  arches  and  along  the 
spacious  nave.  It  contains  two  pillars,  of  white  mar- 
ble, brought  from  Jerusalem  by  the  crusaders ;  splen- 
did tombs,  in  which  repose  the  ashes  of  several  of  the 
princes  of  Arragon.  Behind  the  great  altar,  separated 
by  a  door  from  the  church,  is  the  chapel  of  the  con- 
vent. The  door  is  iron  trellised  work ;  and  we  were 
allowed  to  gaze  through  upon  the  nuns,  who  were  at 
their  devotions.  They  were  all  clad  in  neat,  Quakerish 
dresses,  and  looked  modest  and  pious.  They  seemed 
to  be  of  all  ages,  from  the  pale,  delicate  girl  of  sixteen, 
to  the  thin,  wrinkled  old  lady  of  eighty  years.  The 
services  in  this  church  were  very  captivating.  Three 
monks  were  siaging  ;  and  such  power  in  music  I  never 
heard  before.  Awe  seemed  to  pervade  the  heart,  as  the 
streams  came  echoing  back  from  the  resounding  aisles, 

'  Santa  Chiara. 


308  EUROPA. 

like  the  harmony  of  heaven.  It  is  only  when  we  follow 
these  monks  into  the  sacristy,  and  see  them  there,  that 
the  delusion  dies  away. 

Leaving  this  splendid  edifice,  we  entered  another 
nameless  chapel,^  where  we  found  several  works  of  art 
which  draw  much  attention  from  strangers.  Here  we 
found  the  "  Dead  Christ,"  a  statue  of  the  Savior  repos- 
ing in  death  after  his  crucifixion.  At  his  feet  lie  the 
spikes,  the  hammer,  and  the  thorns.  Over  the  form  is 
thrown  a  delicate  veil,  so  thin  and  gauzelike  that  we 
can  seem  to  see  the  perspiration  upon  the  body.  The 
illusion  is  complete,  and  the  beholder  instinctively 
reaches  forward  to  remove  the  covering  from  the  face. 
This  exquisite  work  is  as  large  as  life,  and  is  carved 
from  one  piece  of  marble.  The  monk  who  opened  the 
doors  told  us  a  monkish  story,  something  as  follows: 
An  English  noble  wished  to  purchase  this  piece  of 
statuary,  to  remove  to  England,  and  offered  for  it  its 
weight  in  gold  and  silver,  in  equal  proportions,  but 
was  refused. 

In  another  part  of  this  chapel,  which  was  originally 
dedicated  to  Diana  of  the  Ephesians,  is  a  statue  of 
Vice,  covered  with  a  rope  network,  which  he  is  endeav- 
oring to  tear  off,  in  the  doing  of  which  he  is  assisted 
by  an  angel.  As  I  approached  the  figure,  the  illusion 
was  so  complete,  that  I  seemed  to  be  able  to  put  my 
hand  beneath  the  network,  which  appeared  to  be  sep- 
arate from  the  person.  A  globe  and  some  books  are 
beside  the  statue,  all  of  which  are  carved  from  one 
piece  of  marble.  On  the  pages  of  the  open  book  was 
the  following  appropriate  inscription  —  Nahum  i.  13: 
"  For  now  will  I  break  his  yoke  from  off  thee,  and 

'  Santa  Severa. 


THE  CHURCHES  OF  NAPLES.  309 

will  burst  thy  bonds  in  sunder,"  with  others  from  the 
Bible  and  from  the  Apocrypha. 

Opposite  the  figure  of  Vice  stands  Virtue,  as  deli- 
cately carved,  but  the  design  is  not  so  clear  and  striking 
as  its  opposite.  Behind  the  altar  is  a  piece  of  statuary 
representing  Christ  giving  sight  to  the  blind.  It  is  of 
one  piece  of  marble,  and  is  fifteen  feet  high  and  eight 
feet  wide,  and  is  an  object  of  study  and  admiration  to 
the  Christian  and  artist. 

Hurrying  out  of  this  chapel,  we  went  into  a  church 
which  had  once  been  used  as  a  pagan  temple,  and 
around  which  yet  lingered  the  memorials  of  paganism. 
The  altar  was  covered  with  vases  of  silver  flowers,  six 
feet  high.  Paintings  and  sculpture  were  displayed  to 
advantage.  One  fine  painting  represented  the  burial 
of  the  apostle  Paul.  He  was  dressed  in  ecclesiastical 
habits,  and  several  shaven-headed  monks  were  putting 
him  into  a  splendid  cofiin.  If  Paul  had  known  that 
he  would  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  monks  after  his 
death,  I  doubt  whether  he  would  have  said,  "  To  die 
is  gain." 

We  next  came  to  an  edifice  which  our  guide  called 
the  Church  of  the  Black  Prince ;  and,  before  I  came 
out,  I  thought  he  was  correct.  A  monk  met  us  at  the 
door,  and  took  us  around  among  the  bowing  worshi]3- 
ers,  to  show  us  the  pictures  and  statues.  He  made 
more  noise  and  talked  louder  than  his  brother  priest 
who  was  at  the  altar.  We  followed  him,  clattering 
over  the  marble  pavement,  stepping  over  the  legs  of 
the  kneeling  penitents,  clearing  as  well  as  we  could  the 
rich  dresses  of  the  ladies,  and  behaving  as  well  as  we 
could  under  the  circumstances.  We  went  into  the 
sacristy,  behind  the  altar,  where  is  an  ivory  crucifix  six 
feet  high  and  one  foot  wide,  several  fine  paintings  by 


310  EUROPA. 

the  old  masters,  and  boxes  and  drawers  for  the  robes  of 
the  priests.  As  well  prepared  as  I  was  for  any  display 
of  duplicity  on  the  part  of  the  priests,  I  was  surprised 
at  the  want  of  gravity  and  decorum  of  these  men, 
when,  as  their  work  was  done,  they  came  into  the  sac- 
risty to  exchange  their  gewgaw  garments  for  the  robes 
of  the  monks.  The  whole  appearance  of  things  in 
this  church  w^as  bad.  Vice  seemed  to  sit  throned  in 
priestly  robes ;  the  church  was  a  playground ;  the 
priests  actors  and  showmen.  Pagan  idolatry  was  out 
shone  by  Papal  pride.  I  saw  an  altar  boy  dipping  his 
bread  in  a  basin  of  consecrated  water,  and  taking  up 
the  sacred  fluid,  and  drinking  it  from  his  hands.  There 
was  not  even  the  show  of  decency  on  the  part  of  the 
priests,  and  a  company  of  low  actors  in  a  theater  dress- 
room  could  not  have  exhibited  less  signs  of  piety. 

We  next  went  to  the  cathedral.  This  structure  ap- 
pears more  modern  than  many  others,  in  consequence 
of  having  been  repaired.  It  was  formerly  a  pagan 
temple,  and  near  the  door  at  which  we  entered  was  an 
urn  which  once  contained  the  blood  shed  in  sacrifices. 
This  church  is  the  center  of  Papal  influence  in  Naples. 
The  principal  object  of  interest  is  St.  January's  Chapel, 
which  is  a  small  room,  separated  from  the  nave  by  a 
brass  gate,  which,  we  were  told,  required  the  labor  of 
two  men  forty-five  years  to  build  it.  The  interior  of 
the  chapel  is  very  richly  finished ;  the  dome  small,  but 
very  superb.  The  altar  is  of  gold  and  precious  stones, 
and  nothing  but  a  fee  will  uncover  it.  In  the  sacristy 
are  kept  forty-six  silver  busts,  as  large  as  life,  of  St. 
Antonio,  John  the  Baptist,  and  others.  These  busts 
belong  to  other  churches,  and  on  the  various  feast  days 
are  carried  out  in  procession.  Behind  a  statue  of  St. 
January  is  an  oratory,  where  a  golden  bust  of  the  saint 


THE   CHURCHES   OF  NAPLES.  311 

and  a  bottle  of  his  blood  are  kept.  It  was  told  us  that, 
when  St.  January  was  killed  for  his  love  to  Jesus,  a  wo- 
man caught  his  blood,  and  preserved  it.  A  part  of  the 
blood  was  taken  to  Spain,  and  the  remainder  to  Naples. 
The  portion  brought  to  Naples  was  bottled,  and,  with 
the  golden  bust  which  contains  the  skull  of  the  saint,  or 
somebody  else,  is  shut  up  in  a  silver  tabernacle.  The 
bust  is  separated  from  the  blood ;  and  it  was  told  us 
that,  when  the  skull  and  the  blood  are  brought  into 
contact,  a  miracle  is  produced.  The  coagulated  blood 
liquefies  _as  soon  as  it  is  brought  to  the  bust.  The 
dead  skull  owns  the  dry  substance,  and  responds  to  its 
appeal.  The  miracle  is  performed  three  times  every 
year  —  the  first  eight  days  of  May,  the  first  eight  days 
of  September,  and  the  16th  of  December,  which  is  the 
annual  feast  day  of  the  saint.  Our  profane  eyes  were 
not  allowed,  of  course,  to  see  this  sacred  blood,  which 
is  guarded  with  great  care.  There  are  two  ponderous 
locks  to  the  tabernacle ;  one  key  is  kept  by  the  bishop, 
and  the  other  by  the  governor  of  Naples ;  and  if  one 
lock  is  picked,  the  other  remains  safe.  The  whole 
chapel  is  full  of  relics  and  statues  of  great  worth,  and 
must  have  cost  an  immense  sum  of  money.  The  gate 
alone  cost  about  thirty  thousand  dollars,  or  thirty-two 
thousand  ducats.  The  high  altar,  an  immense  block 
of  porphyry,  with  cornices  of  silver  inlaid  with  gold, 
and  the  paintingSj  many  of  which  are  by  the  famous 
Domenichino,  must  have  been  purchased  at  a  vast 
expense. 

I  presume  we  might  have  seen  other  relics,  and  per- 
haps witnessed  some  of  the  miracles,  if  we  had  been 
willing  to  have  paid  the  price.  The  Italian  priests 
will  perform  almost  any  miracle,  if  you  will  pay  them 
enough  to  rig  out  the  machinery.     Money  is  the  key 


312  EUROPA. 

which  unlocks  the  doors  of  churches,  shows  you  the 
way  into  convents,  makes  you  acquainted  with  priests, 
and  takes  you  into  every  place  of  interest ;  and  I  doubt 
not  some  of  the  monks  would  undertake  to  procure 
you  some  of  the  veritable  blood  of  our  divine  Savior 
for  a  good  round  sum. 

It  is  a  wonder  how  so  many  men  of  apparent  good- 
ness and  undoubted  scholarship  can  be  deceived  by  the 
priests  and  monks.  Their  tricks  and  artifices  are  so 
shallow,  their  miracles  are  so  absurd,  their  pretensions 
are  so  preposterous,  that  we,  who  have  been  educated 
under  the  influence  of  the  Bible,  fail  to  see  how  intelli- 
gent men  can  be  so  blinded.  The  delusion  of  the  peo- 
ple is  a  striking  illustration  of  the  influence  of  early 
educatiiDU  and  the  force  of  long-standing  usages  and 
precedents.  Well,  mind  must  wake  up  ere  long.  God 
speed  the  day! 


i 


CATACOMBS  — CEMETERY  — TOMB  OF  VIRGIL.        813 


XXV. 

CATACOMBS  — CEMETERY  — TOMB  OF  VIRGIL. 

The  catacombs  are  the  sepulchers  of  ages,  and  one 
trembles  as  he  enters  the  dim  and  dark  vestibule. 
These  catacombs  are  dug  out  under  hills,  through 
rocks  and  ledges,  and  extend  into  the  country  for 
miles  around.  They  are  excavations,  made  at  first, 
probably,  for  the  sand  and  stone  which  were  taken 
out,  and  at  length  were  converted  into  sepulchers,  and 
finally  were  the  abodes  of  darkness  to  which  the 
afflicted  Christians  fled  in  the  times  of  bloody  persecu- 
tions. The  main  entrance  to  the  catacombs  is  reached 
by  passing  along  through  a  pile  of  buildings  used  for 
charitable  purposes.  On  one  side  of  the  street  or  pas- 
sage is  an  institution  for  aged  and  indigent  men,  and 
on  the  other  a  similar  charity  for  orphan  girls.  These 
men  and  girls  are  let  out  for  service  sometimes,  but 
more  generally  as  mourners  at  funerals.  They  are  em- 
ployed in  great  numbers  to  weep,  and  wail,  and  groan, 
in  which  delightful  work  they  succeed  after  a  short 
course  of  instruction.  On  such  occasions,  the  men  are 
dressed  in  a  peculiar  uniform,  consisting  of  a  blue 
cloak  and  mourning  hat.  They  carry  a  halberd  and 
a  small  banner,  with  the  coat  of  arms  or  the  name  of 
the  deceased  upon  it.  The  girls  are  designed  for  nuns 
on  their  becoming  of  sufficient  age,  but  are  often  sold 
by  the  church  to  make  wives  for  those  who  cannot 
secure  partners  in  any  other  way.     A  rich  gentleman 

40  AA 


314  EUROPiV. 

sees  and  fancies  one  of  these  girls,  and  the  church,  ever 
ready  to  line  her  coffers,  consents  to  let  her  go  for  a 
consideration,  which  varies  according  to  the  ability  of 
the  person  to  pay.  At  the  entrance  of  the  catacombs 
is  an  arch,  in  which  are  ancient  frescoes  painted  several 
hundred  years  ago,  and  representing  scenes  m  the  life 
of  St.  January.  One  of  them  represents  his  martyr- 
dom, and  the  Neapolitan  woman  is  seen  with  a  bowl 
in  her  hand,  catching  the  blood  as  it  falls  from  his 
wounds. 

The  catacombs  are  in  three  stories  or  stratums,  hewn 
out  of  the  rock,  running  under  the  whole  city,  and  ex- 
tending as  far  as  Pozzuoli.  All  along  these  arched 
subterranean  passages  are  niches  cut  in  the  walls,  just 
large  enough  for  the  corpse,  whether  it  be  man  or  child. 
The  ceilings  are  adorned  with  mosaics  and  frescoes. 
Some  of  these  are  pagan  and  some  are  Christian,  teach- 
ing the  lessons  of  several  different  ages.  Little  monu- 
ments, with  inscriptions,  one  to  the  god  of  gardens,  are 
set  up  here,  and  they  seem  to  speak  and  live  as  the  red 
glare  of  the  torch  falls  upon  them.  Joseph  told  us 
that  one  of  the  passages  had  been  explored  twenty-nine 
miles,  which  may  possibly  be  true.  These  tombs,  now 
decaying,  filled  with  bones  and  ashes,  have  melancholy 
tales  to  tell  as  the  stranger  goes  down  into  them.  They 
have  been  used  alike,  in  times  past,  for  prison,  sepul- 
cher,  temple,  and  palace.  Kings  and  slaves  have  fled 
to  them ;  pagans  and  Christians,  in  turn,  have  sought 
this  refuge  —  a  refuge  which  the  boldest  dare  not  in- 
vade. Here  has  been  heard  the  groan  of  the  murdered 
victim,  and  anon  has  the  song  of  Jehovah's  children 
made  the  very  walls  give  back  sweet  music.  Beneath 
these  dim  arches  men  have  bowed  in  hopeless  despair, 
and  here  have  they  turned  with  love  and  reverence  to 


CATACOMBS— CEMETERY  — TOMB   OF   VIRGIL.        315 

the  mighty  Maker  of  us  all.  It  required  no  effort  of 
imagination  to  bring  back  old  scenes ;  and  while  I  stood 
in  the  flickering  light  of  the  torch,  which,  as  the  guide 
moved  on,  now  seemed  to  blaze  out  with  supernatural 
brightness,  and  anon  to  die  away  as  if  about  to  go  out, 
I  heard  again  the  cry  of  the  disciples  as  they  came 
rushing  on,  followed  by  the  hounds  of  Nero  and  his 
bloody  minions.  It  became  louder  and  more  terrible,  as 
rank  after  rank  of  the  followers  of  the  Nazarene  threw 
themselves,  covered  with  blood  and  dust,  into  the  dens 
and  caves  of  the  earth.  Down  they  rushed  into  deeper 
darkness,  where  no  sun  could  pierce  the  gloom.  Then 
heard  I,  too,  the  wild  psalm,  chanted  in  an  unknown 
tongue  by  those  strange  choristers,  as  they  found  them- 
selves in  a  place  where  none  dare  follow  them.  It 
came  in  stronger,  wilder,  and  more  sublime  strains, 
echoing  along  the  walls,  and  breaking  on  the  ears  of 
the  pursuing  soldiery,  who  thronged  around  the  mouth 
of  the  passage. 

From  these  burial-places  of  the  past,  we  pursued  our 
way  to  the  new  cemetery  of  Naples,  as  near  as  I  could 
judge  in  the  north-east  part  of  the  city.  Here  a  beau- 
tiful lot  of  land  is  laid  out,  with  great  neatness  and 
regularity,  for  burial  purposes.  It  is  so  unlike  our 
cemeteries,  that  a  description  may  not  be  uninteresting. 
It  was  laid  out  several  years  ago,  in  the  time  of  the 
plague,  when  burials  in  the  churches  and  in  church- 
yards were  deemed  dangerous.  It  is  located  on  an 
elevation,  from  which  is  obtained  a  very  fine  view  of 
Vesuvius,  the  broad,  beautiful  Bay  of  Naples,  and  the 
surrounding  country.  Each  of  the  churches  in  the 
city,  or  the  most  distinguished  of  them,  has  here  a 
chapel  designed  for  burials.  Any  person  paying  a 
yearly  fee  to  the  church  can  be  buried  in  one  of  them 


316  EUROPA. 

when  he  dies,  and  have  a  number  of  masses  said  for  the 
rest  of  his  soul.  The  chapels  are  small,  say  fifty  feet 
square.  In  the  center  is  a  deep  vault,  and  along  the 
sides  are  burial-places.  When  a  man  dies,  he  is  brought 
here  and  buried,  and  a  mark  set  up  to  designate  his 
grave.  Men  are  allowed  to  sleep  here  fifteen  months, 
and  children  seven  months,  when  they  are  dug  up  to 
make  room  for  others,  and  their  bodies  cast  headlong 
into  the  vault  beneath,  where  they  are  consumed  by 
quicklime.  In  the  walls  of  the  chapels  are  a  large 
number  of  niches.  A  wealthy  person  can  purchase  one 
of  these  niches,  which  is  just  large  enough  for  the  en- 
trance of  a  cofiin :  this  is  put  in,  sealed  up,  and  a  mar- 
ble slab  placed  over  the  spot,  to  tell  whose  bones  are 
concealed  and  plastered  in  there.  These  bodies  are 
never  removed ;  but  the  exorbitant  price  demanded  of 
the  purchaser  prevents  all  but  a  limited  number  from 
enjoying  the  benefits  of  the  place.  The  Catholic  who 
pays  an  annual  sum  to  the  church  will  also  have  his 
funeral  expenses  borne,  and  forty  or  fifty  hired  mourn- 
ers will  howl  around  his  grave,  and  hypocritical  priests 
will  come  and  perform  mass  over  him. 

There  are  also  deep  vaults,  capable  of  holding  thou- 
sands of  bodies,  in  which  persons  who  do  not  fee  the 
church  are  thrown,  without  burial  service  or  priestly 
chant.  The  largest  of  these  vaults  has  one  hundred 
and  eighty-three  openings,  and  one  of  these  is  thrown 
up  every  two  days,  and  all  who  are  brought  are  cast 
down,  and  lime  thrown  upon  them,  where  they  speedily 
decompose.  No  mode  of  burial  could  be  more  terrible 
than  this.  No  h}rinn  is  sung,  no  prayer  is  ofiered,  no 
service  is  said ;  but,  like  a  brute,  the  noble  creation  of 
God  is  cast  into  a  pit,  which  seems  like  the  yawning 
mouth  of  hell,  and  there  consumed.     The  progress  of 


( 


CATACOMBS  —  CEMETERY  —  TOMB   OF  VIRGIL.        317 

civilization  is  always  attended  with  care  for  the  burial- 
fields  of  the  dead ;  and  the  higher  the  refinement,  the 
more  delicate  and  chaste  will  be  the  expressions  of 
interest  in  the  remains  of  a  perishing  humanity.  The 
brutal  habit  of  the  Neapolitans,  with  ground  enough 
to  bury  millions,  seems  to  me  to  savor  much  of  the 
barbarism  of  the  dark  ages,  and  I  turned  from  the  pit 
with  horror. 

The  cemetery  also  contains  garden  lots,  in  which 
bodies  can  remain  fifteen  months,  when  they  are  dug 
up  and  thrown  into  the  vaults.  Thus  multitudes  in 
Naples  know  not  where  to  find  the  bones  of  father  or 
mother.  In  their  grief  they  have  no  tomb  over  which 
to  weep,  but  every  idea  of  the  dead  must  be  terrible  in 
the  extreme.  The  body  is  cast  headlong  into  a  pit,  and 
is  consumed  by  quicklime,  while  the  soul  is  sent  to  a 
purgatory  dependent  upon  the  prayers  of  the  priest  and 
the  alms  of  surviving  friends.  I  can  see  the  Catholic 
religion  trifling  with  the  living  with  some  degree  of 
allowance  ;  but  the  idea  of  such  horrid  mummeries  over 
the  souls  of  the  dead,  who  are  in  God's  hands,  when 
penance  and  Popery,  mass  and  monkery,  are  alike  una- 
ble to  affect  them,  is  one  which  is  abhorrent  to  every 
principle  of  our  nature.  Twenty-five  monks  attend 
this  burial-place,  keep  it  in  order,  and  do  as  much  work 
as  one  American  could  easily  perform.  They  live  in 
an  adjoining  monastery,  and  employ  their  time  in  say- 
ing masses  for  the  dead. 

In  another  part  of  the  city  is  the  tomb  of  Virgil, 
which  we  visited  one  morning  at  sunrise.  It  stands 
over  the  entrance  of  the  grotto  of  Posilippo,  in  a  spot 
to  which  the  ashes  were  removed  by  Augustus.  We 
pushed  our  way  out  of  the  city,  up  the  hill,  passing 
through  an  unpoetical  old  gate,  into  a  garden  fragrant 

AA* 


318  EUKOPA. 

with  flowers,  and  shady  with  fig,  chestnut,  and  palm 
trees,  to  a  little  arch-like  building  about  twenty  feet 
long  and  fifteen  feet  wide,  over  which  the  ilex  tree,  so 
loved  by  Virgil,  casts  its  shadow.  The  garden  in  which 
the  tomb  is  was  once  a  Protestant  burial-field,  and  a  I 
few  of  the  broken  tombs  still  remain.  The  ashes  of 
Virgil  have  been  removed.  The  urn  which  once  stood 
in  the  center  of  this  rude  apartment  is  also  gone,  and 
the  old  cave  alone  is  seen,  with  a  marble  slab  erect- 
ed by  a  foreign  prince,  to  tell  where  once  the  ashes 
of  the  poet  reposed.  The  Catholic  church  can  afford 
to  decorate  the  tombs,  and  build  marble  monuments 
over  the  resting-places  of  monks  and  villains;  but  a 
name  known  to  the  world,  associated  with  works  read 
by  every  scholar  in  every  land,  is  allowed  to  remain 
unhonored.  And  we  thank  them  for  it.  A  friar,  with 
his  holy  w^ater  and  his  wooden  skull,  at  Virgil's  tomb, 
would  excite  the  indignation  of  every  one  who  had  read 
the  works  of  Virgil.  His  writings  are  his  sufficient 
memorials,  and  he  can  afford  to  do  without  a  splendid 
sarcophagus. 

To  life  in  Naples  there  is  no  harmony.  The  widest 
extremes  meet,  and  wealth  and  poverty  are  strangely 
mixed  together.  The  indolent,  filthy  habits  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  wretched  lazzaroni,  the  stupid  monks,  all  ren- 
der the  place  disgusting  and  odious.  That  it  is  beauti- 
fully located,  that  it  has  fine  palaces,  that  it  is  richly 
adorned  by  every  work  of  art,  all  admit ;  but  all  these 
W'ill  not  counterbalance  industry,  temperance,  frugality, 
domestic  government,  cleanliness,  and  happiness.  The 
soft  Italian  skies,  and  the  highly-finished  Italian  pal- 
aces, are  worth  but  little,  under  such  a  government,  to 
people  with  such  habits.  The  cold,  stormy  climate  of 
New  England,  whose  bleak  hills  are  snow-covered  and 


CATACOMBS  — CEMETERY  — TOMB   OF   VIRGIL.        dil9 

not  vinc-clad,  is  more  inviting  than  the  voluptuous  ease 
and  indolent  refinement  of  Naples.  To  me  there  is  but 
little  poetry  in  temples  dedicated  to  Mercury,  Venus, 
and  Bacchus,  now  broken  down  and  filled  with  ser- 
pents and  reptiles ;  in  palaces,  at  the  doors  of  which 
women  sit  in  filth  and  wretchedness,  raking  out  the 
matted  and  tangled  hair  which  grows  upon  the  sense- 
less pa.tes  of  each  other ;  in  riding  on  the  shoulders  of 
greasy,  dirty  men,  into  the  caves  which,  if  we  may  be- 
lieve the  poets,  the  beautiful  limbs  of  the  sibyls  were 
wont  to  repose ;  in  nightly  assassinations  and  daily 
debauches  ;  in  the  dirty  feet  and  shaven  crowns  of  the 
friars;  in  bright-eyed  daughters  of  Italy  who  do  not 
know  their  own  mother  tongue ;  in  the  streets  where 
flowers  and  filth,  fruit  and  folly,  are  seen  in  delightful 
kindred,  and  where  one  third  of  the  people  we  meet 
remind  us  of  the  plague  in  pantaloons,  and  the  small- 
pox in  the  unwashed  chemise  of  the  maiden.  Poets 
may  breathe  their  tender  lays,  and  with  professional  li- 
cense portray  Naples  as  one  of  the  outposts  of  paradise 
itself;  but  to  me  it  will  be  associated  with  a  fallen,  de- 
graded, dishonored,  enslaved,  and  besotted  people. 


320  EUROPA. 


XXVI. 

HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII. 

I  HAVE  wandered  in  melancholy  spots,  where  tears 
were  man's  most  appropriate  oiFerings ;  I  have  seen 
the  tombs  of  Columbia's  most  honored  dead,  shaded  by 
evergreens,  and  mourned  over  by  the  drooping  branches 
of  the  weeping  willow ;  I  have  moved  amid  the  char- 
nels  of  those  whose  names  yet  live  in  our  most  delight- 
ful recollections ;  I  have  crossed  the  ocean,  and  stood 
in  the  old  Abbey  of  Westminster,  where,  amid  the  faded 
wreaths  of  poetry,  the  scattered  laurels  of  ambition, 
the  broken  scepters  of  royalty.  Death  sits,  a  tyrant  on 
the  throne  of  skulls,  sporting  with  the  plaything  man  ; 
but  nowhere  have  deeper  streams  of  mournful  thoughts 
poured  into  the  mind,  than  when  listening  to  the  elo- 
quent teachings  of  the  past  in  the  deserted  streets  of 
death-smitten  Pompeii.  Here  are  a  nation's  sepulchers 
—  the  palaces  of  its  senators  and  the  hovels  of  its 
slaves,  all  buried  in  a  single  night,  and  forgotten  for 
centuries. 

Pompeii  lies  north-east  from  Naples,  at  a  distance  of 
about  twelve  miles,  and  at  the  time  of  its  destruction 
was  a  considerable  city.  It  was  noted  for  the  beauty 
of  its  dwellings  and  the  intelligence  of  its  people.  To 
it  philosophers  resorted,  and  men  of  the  schools  made 
it  their  abode.  It  was  a  wealthy  city,  and  in  easy 
elegance  lived  its  voluptuous  inhabitants,  the  slaves  of 


IIERCULANEUM   AND   POMPEII.  321 

sensualism  and  dissipation.  Beyond  general  facts,  but 
little  of  its  history  is  known ;  and  the  remains  which 
are  now  being  exhumed  are  proving  false  many  of  the 
opinions  of  historians  and  antiquarians. 

The  city  was  partly  shaken  down  by  an  earthquake, 
A.  D.  63,  but  the  enterprising  inhabitants  soon  repaired 
their  shattered  tenements,  and  erected  their  theaters 
and  halls  of  justice  with  more  beauty  and  elegance 
than  before.  But  their  work  was  vain.  A  few  years 
rolled  on,  and  a  more  general  destruction  occurred,  and 
the  history  of  Pompeii  came  to  a  sudden  and  terrible 
end.  A.  D.  79,  the  surrounding  hills  gave  evidence  of 
convulsions.  The  lakes  and  ponds  in  the  neighborhood 
were  aiFected.  They  rose  and  fell ;  retreated  from  the 
shores,  and  anon  dashed  up  again  upon  the  banks. 
Strange,  unearthly  sounds,  like  the  rumbling  of  a  thou- 
sand chariots  over  hollow  pavements,  were  heard.  Now 
and  then,  an  opening  chasm,  emitting  sulphureous 
clouds,  which  huijig  like  a  sable  pall  over  the  doomed 
city,  would  be  seen ;  and  at  intervals  a  jet  of  flame, 
thrown  into  the  air,  would  fall  just  without  the  walls,  as 
if  the  mighty  powers  below  were  at  play  with  the  fears 
of  men.  The  people,  alarmed  for  the  moment,  soon  re- 
turned to  their  pleasures.  The  theater  was  thronged, 
and  the  places  of  amusement  found  many  attendants. 
The  busy  crowd  hurried  to  and  fro,  engaged  in  the 
various  purposes  of  life.  The  priests  of  Isis  and  the 
followers  of  Jesus  met  each  other  in  the  street,  and 
the  music  of  the  temple  was  echoed  back  from  the 
walls  of  the  theater  and  the  gates  of  the  forum.  The 
approach  of  danger  only  sharpened  the  appetite  and 
increased  the  desire  for  enjoyment ;  and  while  the  vol- 
cano was  preparing  to  bring  its  artillery  to  bear  u|)on 
their  habitations,  they  were  shouting  over  the  wounded 
41 


322  EUROPA. 

gladiator,  and  singing  bacchanalian  songs  in  the  tem- 
ples of  their  divinities. 

But  at  length  the  hour  came ;  and  from  the  summit 
of  the  mountain  flashed  terrific  lightnings,  forked  and 
fiery,  and  forth  came  a  shower  of  ashes  which  darkened 
the  sun ;  a  torrent  of  water  came  down  boiling  upon 
the  plains  below,  and  a  more  fearful  stream  of  molten 
matter,  which  directed  its  course  towards  the  villages 
and  towns  which  yesterday  resounded  with  shouts  and 
songs.  The  scene  must  have  been  one  of  indescribable 
and  awful  grandeur.  That  old  mountain  quaking  and 
trembling,  and  belching  forth  huge  masses  of  rocks  and 
scoria,  which,  dashing  against  each  other  in  the  air, 
scattered  into  fragments,  and,  falling  upon  the  beauti- 
ful villas  in  the  neighborhood,  set  them  on  fire ;  the 
streams  of  boiling  water  and  sparkling  cinders,  min- 
gling and  falling  heavily  upon  the  house  tops  and  in  the 
streets ;  the  changing  character  of  the  whole  scene, 
from  lurid  brightness  now  to  dense  and  dismal  dark- 
ness then ;  the  long,  hurried  procession  of  slaves,  with 
torches  and  treasures,  hastening  with  their  masters  down 
to  the  sea ;  houses  reeling  and  falling,  crushing  to  pieces 
the  fugitive  in  his  wild  flight ;  nobles  and  beggars  alike 
asking  for  aid  in  vain  ;  the  wild  outcries  of  the  follow- 
ers of  Jesus,  who  imagined  that  the  day  of  doom  had 
come,  and  were  uttering  notes  of  warning  ;  the  pillage 
of  houses  vacated  by  their  owners,  by  men  who  were 
unterrified  by  the  convulsion  of  the  world ;  and  all  the 
fearful  phenomena  of  nature  which  that  day  were 
witnessed  by  the  flying  sensualists  of  Pompeii,  —  must 
have  thrown  over  the  whole  an  aspect  of  unutterable 
terror,  equaled  by  nothing  in  the  history  of  the  world 
since  the  flood  and  the  conflag-ration  of  Sodom. 

A  true  and  accurate  narrative  of  the  burial  of  the 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  323 

two  cities  has  been  given  by  the  younger  Pliny,  in  a 
series  of  letters  to  a  friend.  They  were  written  in 
answer  to  certain  questions  which  were  put  to  him  in 
relation  to  the  death  of  his  uncle,  Pliny  the  elder,  and 
portray  the  scene  to  our  minds  with  great  distinctness 
and  probable  truthfulness.  In  one  of  these  letters,  he 
says,  — 

"  Your  request  that  I  would  send  you  an  account  of 
my  uncle's  death,  in  order  to  transmit  a  more  exact 
relation  of  it  to  posterity,  deserves  my  acknowledg- 
ments ;  for,  if  this  accident  shall  be  celebrated  by  your 
pen,  the  glory  of  it,  I  am  well  assured,  will  be  rendered 
forever  illustrious.  And  notwithstanding  he  perished 
by  a  misfortune  which,  as  it  involved  at  the  same  time 
a  most  beautiful  country  in  ruins,  and  destroyed  so 
many  populous  cities,  seems  to  promise  him  an  ever- 
lasting remembrance,  —  notwithstanding  he  has  him- 
self composed  many  and  lasting  works,  —  yet  I  am  per- 
suaded the  mentioning  of  him  in  your  immortal  works 
will  greatly  contribute  to  eternalize  his  name.  Happy  I 
esteem  those  to  be  whom  Providence  has  distinguished 
with  the  abilities  either  of  doing  such  actions  as  are 
worthy  of  being  related,  or  of  relating  them  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  being  read  ;  but  doubly  happy  are  they 
who  are  blessed  with  both  these  uncommon  talents,  in 
the  number  of  which  my  uncle,  as  his  own  writings 
and  your  history  will  evidently  prove,  may  justly  be 
ranked.  It  is  with  extreme  willingness,  therefore,  I  exe- 
cute your  commands,  and  should,  indeed,  have  claimed 
the  task  if  you  had  not  enjoined  it.  He  was,  at  that 
time,  with  the  fleet  under  his  command,  at  Misenum. 
On  the  24th  of  August,  about  one  in  the  afternoon, 
my  mother  desired  him  to  observe  a  cloud,  which 
appeared  of  a  very  unusual  size  and  shape.     He  had 


324  EUROPA. 

just  returned  from  taking  the  benefit  of  the  sun,  and, 
after  bathing  himself  in  cold  water,  and  taking  a  slight 
repast,  was  retired  to  his  study.  He  immediately  arose, 
and  went  out  upon  an  eminence,  from  whence  he  might 
more  distinctly  view  this  very  uncommon  appearance. 
It  was  not,  at  that  distance,  discernible  from  what 
mountain  this  cloud  issued,  but  it  was  found  afterwards 
to  ascend  from  Mount  Vesuvius.  I  cannot  give  a  more 
exact  description  of  its  figure  than  by  resembling  it  to 
that  of  a  pine  tree ;  for  it  shot  up  to  a  great  hight  in 
the  form  of  a  trunk,  which  extended  itself  at  the  top 
into  a  sort  of  branches,  occasioned,  I  imagine,  either 
by  a  sudden  gust  of  air  that  impelled  it,  the  force  of 
which  decreased  as  it  advanced  upwards,  or  the  cloud 
itself,  being  pressed  back  again  by  its  own  weight,  ex- 
panded in  this  manner.  It  appeared  sometimes  bright 
and  sometimes  dark  and  spotted,  as  it  was  more  or  less 
impregnated  with  earth  and  cinders.  This  extraordi- 
nary phenomenon  excited  my  uncle's  philosophical  cu- 
riosity to  take  a  nearer  view  of  it.  He  ordered  a  light 
vessel  to  be  got  ready,  and  gave  me  the  liberty,  if  I 
thought  proper,  to  attend  him.  I  rather  chose  to  con- 
tinue my  studies ;  for,  as  it  happened,  he  had  given  me 
an  employment  of  that  kind.  As  he  was  coming  out 
of  the  house,  he  received  a  note  from  Rectina,  the  wife 
of  Bassus,  who  was  in  the  utmost  alarm  at  the  immi- 
ment  danger  which  threatened  her  ;  for,  her  villa  being 
situated  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Vesuvius,  there  was  no 
way  to  escape  but  by  sea.  She  earnestly  entreated  him, 
therefore,  to  come  to  her  assistance.  He  accordingly 
changed  his  first  design,  and  what  he  began  with  a 
philosophical  he  pursued  with  an  heroical  turn  of 
mind.  He  ordered  the  galleys  to  put  to  sea,  and  went 
himself  on  board,  with  an  intention  of  assisting  not 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  325 

only  Rectina,  but  several  others ;  for  the  villas  stand 
extremely  thick  upon  that  beautiful  coast.  When 
hastening  to  the  place  from  whence  others  fled  with 
the  utmost  terror,  he  steered  his  direct  course  to  the 
point  of  danger,  and  with  so  much  calmness  and  pres- 
ence of  mind,  as  to  be  able  to  make  and  dictate  his 
observations  upon  the  motion  and  figure  of  that  dread- 
ful scene.  He  was  now  so  nigh  the  mountain,  that  the 
cinders,  which  grew  thicker  and  hotter  the  nearer  he 
approached,  fell  into  the  ships,  together  with  pumice 
stones,  and  black  pieces  of  burning  rock.  They  were 
likewise  in  danger  not  only  of  being  aground  by  the 
sudden  retreat  of  the  sea,  but  also  from  the  vast  frag- 
ments which  rolled  down  from  the  mountain,  and  ob- 
structed all  the  shore.  Here  he  stopped  to  consider 
whether  he  should  return  again,  to  which  the  pilot 
advising  him,  '  Fortune,'  said  he,  '  befriends  the  brave  ; 
carry  me  to  Pomponianus.'  Pomponianus  was  then  at 
Stabise,  separated  by  a  gulf  which  the  sea,  after  several 
insensible  windings,  forms  upon  the  shore.  He  had 
already  sent  his  baggage  on  board ;  for,  though  he  was 
not  at  that  time  in  actual  danger,  yet,  being  Avithin  the 
view  of  it,  and,  indeed,  extremely  near  if  it  should  in 
the  least  increase,  he  was  determined  to  put  to  sea  as 
soon  as  the  wind  should  change.  It  w^as  favorable, 
however,  for  carrying  my  uncle  to  Pomponianus,  whom 
he  found  in  the  greatest  consternation.  He  embraced 
him  with  tenderness,  encouraging  and  exhorting  him 
to  keep  up  his  spirits  ;  and,  the  more  to  dissipate  his 
fears,  he  ordered,  with  an  air  of  unconcern,  the  baths 
to  be  got  ready,  when,  after  having  bathed,  he  sat  down 
to  supper  with  great  cheerfulness,  or,  at  least,  (what  is 
equally  heroic,)  with  all  the  appearance  of  it.  In  the 
mean  while,  the  eruption  from  Mount  Vesuvius  flamed 

BB 


326  EUROPA. 

out  in  several  places  with  much  violence,  which  the 
darkness  of  the  night  contributed  to  render  still  more 
visible  and  dreadful.  But  my  uncle,  in  order  to  soothe 
the  apprehensions  of  his  friend,  assured  him  it  was  only 
the  burning  of  the  villages  which  the  country  people 
had  abandoned  to  the  flames.  After  this,  he  retired  to 
rest ;  and  it  is  most  certain  he  was  so  little  discomposed 
as  to  fall  into  a  deep  sleep ;  for,  being  pretty  fat,  and 
breathing  hard,  those  who  attended  without  actually 
heard  him  snore.  The  court  which  led  to  his  apart- 
ment being  now  almost  filled  with  stones  and  ashes,  if 
he  had  continued  there  any  time  longer  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  have  made  his  way  out.  It 
was  thought  proper,  therefore,  to  awaken  him.  He  got 
up,  and  went  to  Pomponianus  and  the  rest  of  his  com- 
pany, who  were  not  unconcerned  enough  to  think  of 
going  to  bed.  They  consulted  together  whether  it 
would  be  most  prudent  to  trust  to  the  houses,  which 
now  shook  from  side  to  side  with  frequent  and  violent 
concussions,  or  fly  to  the  open  fields,  where  the  cal- 
cined stones  and  cinders,  though  light  indeed,  yet  fell 
in  large  showers,  and  threatened  destruction.  In  this 
distress,  they  resolved  for  the  fields,  as  the  less  danger- 
ous situation  of  the  two  —  a  resolution  which,  while 
the  rest  of  the  company  were  hurried  into  by  their 
fears,  my  uncle  embraced  upon  cool  and  deliberate 
consideration.  They  went  out,  then,  having  pillows 
tied  upon  their  heads  with  napkins  ;  and  this  was  their 
whole  defence  against  the  storm  of  stones  that  fell 
around  them.  It  was  now  day  every  where  else ;  but 
there  a  deeper  darkness  prevailed  than  in  the  most  ob- 
scure night,  which,  however,  was  in  some  degree  dissi- 
pated by  torches  and  other  lights  of  various  kinds. 
They  thought  proper   to   go   down   farther  upon  the 


HERCULANEUM  AND  TOMPEII.  327 

shore,  to  observe  if  they  might  safely  put  out  to  sea  ; 
but  they  found  the  waves  still  run  extremely  high  and 
boisterous.  There  my  uncle,  having  drank  a  draught 
or  two  of  cold  water,  threw  himself  down  upon  a  cloth 
which  was  laid  for  him,  when  immediately  the  flames, 
and  a  strong  smell  of  sulphur,  which  was  the  forerunner 
of  them,  dispersed  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  obliged 
him  to  rise.  He  raised  himself  up,  with  the  assistance 
of  two  of  his  servants,  and  instantly  fell  down  dead  — 
suffocated,  as  I  conjecture,  by  some  gross  and  noxious 
vapor,  having  always  had  weak  lungs,  and  being  fre- 
quently subject  to  a  difficulty  of  breathing.  As  soon 
as  it  was  light  again,  which  was  not  till  the  third  day 
after  this  melancholy  accident,  his  body  was  found  en- 
tire, and  without  any  marks  of  violence  upon  it,  exactly 
in  the  same  posture  that  he  fell,  and  looking  more  like 
a  man  asleep  than  dead.      During  all   this    time,  my 

mother  and  I,  who  were  at  Misenum But  as  this 

has  no  connection  with  your  history,  so  your  inquiry 
went  no  farther  than  concerning  my  uncle's  death: 
with  that,  therefore,  I  will  put  an  end  to  my  letter. 
Suffer  me  only  to  add,  that  I  have  faithfully  related  to 
you  what  I  was  either  an  eye-witness  of  myself,  or 
received  immediately  after  the  accident  happened,  and 
before  there  was  time  to  vary  the  truth.  You  will 
choose  out  of  this  narrative  such  circumstances  as  shall 
be  most  suitable  to  your  purpose ;  for  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  what  is  proper  for  a  letter  and  a 
history,  between  writing  to  a  friend  and  writing  to  the 
public." 

In  answer  to  another  letter  from  Tacitus,  requesting 
still  further  details  of  the  terrible  catastrophe  which 
destroyed  so  many  human  lives,  and  buried  so  many 
cities  in  the  ruins,  Pliny  writes  again,  as  follows :  — 


328  EUROPA. 

"  The  letter  I  wrote  you  concerning  the  death  of  my 
uncle  has  roused,  it  seems,  your  curiosity  to  know  what 
terrors  and  dangers  surrounded  me  during  that  dread- 
ful scene. 

'  Though  my  shocked  soul  recoils,  my  tongue  shall  tell.' 

My  uncle  having  left  us,  I  pursued  the  studies  which 
prevented  my  going  with  him  until  it  was  time  to 
bathe ;  after  which  I  went  to  supper,  and  from  thence 
to  bed.  There  had  been,  for  many  days  before,  some 
shocks  of  an  earthquake,  which  the  less  surprised  us 
as  they  are  extremely  frequent  in  Campania ;  but  they 
were  so  particularly  violent  that  night,  that  they  not 
only  shook  every  thing  about  us,  but  seemed,  indeed, 
to  threaten  total  destruction.  My  mother  flew  to  my 
chamber,  where  she  found  me  rising  in  order  to  awaken 
her.  We  went  out  into  a  small  court,  belonging  to  the 
house,  which  separated  the  sea  from  the  buildings.  As 
I  was,  at  that  time,  but  eighteen  years  of  age,  I  knew 
not  whether  I  should  call  my  behavior,  in  this  danger- 
ous juncture,  rashness  or  courage ;  but  I  took  up  Livy, 
and  amused  myself  with  turning  over  that  author. 
Though  it  was  now  morning,  the  light  was  exceedingly 
faint  and  languid ;  the  buildings  all  around  us  tot- 
tered ;  and  though  we  stood  upon  open  ground,  yet,  as 
the  place  was  narrow  and  confined,  there  was  no  re- 
maining there  without  great  and  certain  danger.  We 
therefore  resolved  to  move  out  of  town.  The  people 
followed  us  in  the  utmost  consternation,  and  as,  to  a 
mind  distracted  with  terror,  every  suggestion  seems 
more  prudent  than  its  own,  pressed  in  great  crowds 
around  us  on  our  way  out.  Being  got  at  a  convenient 
distance  from  the  houses,  we  stood  still,  in  the  midst 
of  a  most  dangerous  and  dreadful  scene.     The  chariots 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  329 

which  we  had  ordered  to  be  drawn  out  were  so  agitated 
backward  and  forward,  though  upon  the  most  level 
ground,  that  we  could  not  keep  them  steady,  even  by 
supporting  them  with  large  stones.  The  sea  seemed  to 
roll  back  upon  itself,  and  to  be  driven  from  its  banks 
by  the  convulsive  motion  of  the  earth.  It  is  certain, 
at  least,  that  the  shore  was  considerably  enlarged,  and 
several  sea  animals  were  left  upon  it.  On  the  other 
side,  a  black  and  dreadful  cloud,  bursting  with  an  ig- 
neous, serpentine  vapor,  darted  out  a  long  train  of  fire, 
resembling  flashes  of  lightning,  but  much  larger. 

"My  mother  strongly  conjured  me  to  make  my  es- 
cape at  any  rate,  which,  as  I  was  young,  I  might  easily 
do.  As  for  herself,  she  said,  her  age  and  corpulency 
rendered  all  attempts  of  that  sort  impossible.  How- 
ever, she  would  willingly  meet  death  if  she  could  have 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  she  was  not  the  occasion 
of  mine.  But  I  absolutely  refused  to  leave  her  ;  and, 
taking  her  by  the  hand,  I  led  her  on.  She  complied 
with  great  reluctance,  and  not  without  many  reproach- 
es to  herself  for  retarding  my  flight.  The  ashes  now 
began  to  fall  upon  us,  though  in  no  great  quantities. 
I  turned  my  head,  and  observed  behind  us  a  thick 
smoke,  which  came  rolling  after  us  like  a  torrent.  I 
proposed,  while  we  yet  had  any  light,  to  turn  out  of 
the  high  road,  lest  we  should  be  pressed  to  death  in 
the  dark  by  the  crowd  that  followed  us.  We  had 
scarce  stepped  out  of  the  path,  when  darkness  over- 
spread us  —  not  like  that  of  a  cloudy  night,  or  when 
there  is  no  moon,  but  of  a  room  when  it  is  shut  up, 
and  all  the  lights  extinct.  Nothing  there  was  to  be 
heard  but  the  shrieks  of  women,  the  screams  of  chil- 
dren, and  the  cries  of  men ;  some  calling  for  their 
children,  some  for  their  parents,  others  for  their  hus- 

42  BB* 


330  EUROPA. 

bands,  and  only  distinguishing  each  other  by  their 
voices ;  one  lamenting  his  own  fate,  another  that  of 
his  family ;  some  wishing  to  die  from  the  very  fear  of 
dying ;  some  lifting  their  hands  to  the  gods ;  but  the 
greater  part  imagining  that  the  last  and  eternal  night 
was  come,  which  was  to  destroy  the  gods  and  the  world 
together.  At  length,  a  glimmering  light  appeared, 
which  we  imagined  to  be  the  forerunner  of  an  unusual 
burst  of  flame,  as  in  truth  it  was  then  the  return  of 
day.  However,  the  fire  fell  at  a  distance  from  us. 
Then  again  we  were  enveloped  in  darkness,  and  a 
heavy  shower  of  ashes  rained  upon  us,  which  we  were 
obliged,  every  now  and  then,  to  shake  off;  otherwise 
we  should  have  been  crushed  and  buried  in  the  heap. 
At  last,  this  dreadful  darkness  was  dissipated  by  de- 
grees, like  a  cloud  of  smoke ;  the  real  day  returned, 
and  even  the  sun  appeared,  though  very  faintly,  and  as 
when  an  eclipse  is  coming  on.  Every  object  which 
presented  itself  to  our  eyes  seemed  changed,  being  cov- 
ered over  with  snow.  We  returned  to  Misenum,  where 
we  refreshed  ourselves  as  well  as  we  could,  and  passed 
an  anxious  night,  between  hope  and  fear,  though,  in- 
deed, with  a  much  larger  share  of  the  latter ;  for  the 
earthquake  still  continued ;  while  several  enthusiastic 
people  ran  up  and  down,  hightening  the  calamity  by 
terrible  predictions.  However,  my  mother  and  I,  not- 
withstanding the  danger  we  had  passed,  and  which  still 
threatened  us,  had  not  thought  of  leaving  the  place  till 
we  should  receive  some  intelligence  from  my  uncle." 

The  first  traces  of  the  buried  cities  were  discovered 
in  1738,  by  Charles,  King  of  Spain,  who  conquered 
Naples,  and  made  Portici,  a  town  which  is  built  upon 
the  ruins  of  Herculaneum,  his  residence.  In  sinking  a 
well,  three  statues  were  found,  which  led  to  explorations, 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  331 

and  resulted  in  the  discovery  of  the  long-buried  city. 
In  1750,  Pompeii  was  discovered,  after  having  remained 
concealed  from  view  nearly  seventeen  centuries.  Her- 
culaneum  was  buried  by  the  lava  storm,  which  poured 
along  the  streets,  deluging  the  houses,  consuming  the 
verdure,  and  overwhelming  every  sign  of  life  and 
beauty.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  this  city  was  destroyed 
by  lava,  but  few  excavations  have  been  made.  The 
work  is  so  slow  and  tedious,  and  requires  so  much  la- 
bor and  expense,  that  but  little  has  yet  been  done.  A 
goodly  town  is  also  built  upon  the  spot,  and  the  habita- 
tions of  the  living  rise  upon  the  tombs  of  the  dead. 

With  lighted  torches,  we  went  down  the  rocky  ]3ath- 
way  into  an  old  theater,  which  has  been  partially  ex- 
humed, and  which  still  shows  us  the  magnificent  pro- 
portions and  splendid  decorations  of  this  temple  of 
pleasure.  Beautiful  houses  have  also  been  discovered, 
in  which  works  of  art  in  a  state  of  wonderful  preser- 
vation have  been  found,  and  brought  forth  from  their 
rocky  sepulchers  to  become  the  study  of  the  antiqua- 
rian, and  the  object  of  curiosity  and  amusement  to  the 
traveler.  The  most  important  discovery  made  in  Her- 
culaneum  was  sixteen  hundred  and  ninety-six  papyrus 
rolls,  which  were  brought  to  light  about  a  century  ago. 
They  are  covered  with  inscriptions  almost  unintelligible 
as  yet,  but  which  may  in  future  furnish  important  his- 
torical information  to  the  scholar.  The  rolls  are  so 
charred,  that  thus  far  all  attempts  to  unroll  them  have 
been  nearly  or  quite  in  vain,  only  a  small  number  of 
them  being  legible  after  the  process  is  completed.^  Some 
of  the  most  noted  scholars  of  modern  times  have  been 
employed  to  interpret  these  literary  remains,  but  with 

*  The  authors  of  these  works  are    Phanas,    Colotes,    Polystratus,    and 
Bpicurius,    Philodemos,    Demetrius,    others. 


332  EUROPA. 

no  success  that  corresponds  with  the  time,  labor,  and 
expense  of  the  undertaking.  All  future  excavations 
made  here  will  be  slow  and  tedious,  and  meet  with 
every  obstacle  from  the  inhabitants  of  Portici,  who  are 
naturally  averse  to  having  the  town  undermined,  and 
its  foundations  hewn  away.  What  lies  beneath,  none 
can  tell ;  what  temples,  what  theaters,  what  exquisite 
works  of  art,  what  noble  designs,  what  buried  treas- 
ures, must  long  remain  unknown.  The  work  of  de- 
struction was  not  completed  by  one  eruption.  The 
stratified  crustation  shows  that  again  and  again  the 
waves  of  fire  have  rolled  over  that  doomed  city,  and 
the  present  quiet  appearance  of  Vesuvius  is  no  indica- 
tion that  lightnings  will  not  again  burst  forth  from  its 
fiery  bosom.  The  excavations  now  made  only  need  a 
new  earthquake  to  fill  them  up,  and  Portici  only  waits 
a  new  eruption  to  sweep  its  palaces  away. 

Pompeii  was  buried  by  a  shower  of  ashes,  and  the 
work  of  exhuming  it  has  been  more  speedy  and  suc- 
cessful. Thus  far  about  forty  acres  have  been  dug 
over,  and  streets,  dwellings,  and  public  buildings  are 
laid  open.  These  ashes  fell  so  fast  that  many  had  no 
opportunity  to  escape,  or  were  buried  in  the  streets  as 
they  were  pursuing  their  way  to  the  distant  sea.  Thus 
far  some  three  or  four  hundred  skeletons  have  been 
found,  while  countless  others  may  yet  be  lying  in  those 
parts  of  the  city  which  have  not  been  disinterred. 

The  impression  made  upon  my  mind  by  a  walk 
through  the  streets  of  Pompeii  time  can  hardly  efface. 
The  pavements,  the  houses,  the  columns,  as  they  were 
when,  eighteen  centuries  ago,  the  torrent  fell  upon 
them,  are  on  every  side.  The  shops  of  the  traders, 
with  the  signs  still  up ;  the  frescoes  on  the  walls,  as 
bright  and  lively  as  ever;    the  mosaics  of  stone  and 


IIERCUIiANEUM  AND   POMPEII.  333 

shell,  clear  and  distinct ;  the  various  evidences  of  ex- 
quisite taste  and  finish,  —  all  seem  like  a  dream,  when 
we  are  told  that  the  hands  that  made  them  trembled  in 
death  before  the  crucifixion.  The  houses  of  Pompeii 
were  generally  of  one  story,  or  if  a  second  story  was 
erected,  it  was  used  for  storage,  or  for  slaves.  A  large 
number  of  apartments,  halls,  and  open  courts  were  on 
the  ground  floor,  and  frequently  many  of  the  rooms 
were  entirely  uncovered,  and  designed  entirely  for 
pleasant  weather.  The  stranger,  finding  admittance 
through  a  spacious  entry,  (vestibulum,)  would  find  him- 
self in  an  open  area,  paved  with  marble  or  wrought 
in  mosaics,  from  which,  on  all  sides,  are  doors  leading 
out  into  dining-room,  (triclinium,)  reading-room,  (tahli- 
num,)  bed-chambers,  and  saloons  for  various  purposes, 
in  number  and  splendor  corresponding  with  the  taste 
and  ability  of  the  possessor. 

We  entered  Pompeii  by  the  famous  Appian  Way,  and 
passed  by  the  spot  where  the  skeleton  sentinel  was 
found  in  his  armor,  standing  at  his  post,  having  scorned 
flight,  choosing  to  die  in  discharge  of  duty  rather  than 
leave  the  city  unguarded ;  and  also,  near  by,  where  a 
mother  and  her  three  children  were  found,  the  position 
of  the  group  being  such  as  to  show  that  the  last  act  of 
maternal  love  was  an  attempt  to  save  the  children  at 
the  sacrifice  of  her  own  life.  We  were  pointed  first  to 
the  house  of  Diomede,  whose  story  poetry  has  woven 
into  its  song,  and  on  which  fiction  has  founded  many  a 
thrilling  tale.  The  remains  of  this  rich  man's  resi- 
dence indicate  that  it  was  one  of  great  splendor.  In 
the  now  deserted  halls  were  once  heard  the  pattering 
feet  of  the  dancers,  and  from  the  gay  abode  gleamed 
out  at  night  the  dazzling  radiance  of  the  festival.  The 
house  stands  near   the   mountain,  and  was   probably 


334  EUKOPA. 

buried  as  soon  as  any  other  part  of  the  city.     When  it 
was  disinterred,  the  remains  gave  vivid  witness  of  the 
last  scene  in  the  awful  play.     It  is  evident  that  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  house,  finding  themselves  cut  off  from 
flight,  or  supposing  that  the  storm  of  fire  and  ashes 
would  soon  abate,  retired  to  the  subterranean  passages 
below,  with  lights,  and  food,  and  wine,  and  there  per- 
ished.     Seventeen    skeletons  were   found   pent  up  in 
these  vaults,  whither  they  had  fled  for  safety  and  pro- 
tection —  alas !  their  sepulchers.     One  of  them  was  an 
infant,  whose  little  form  still  clung  in  death  to  the  bony 
bosom  of  her  who  gave  it  birth.    Another  was  the  little 
daughter  of  Diomede,  the  impression  of  whose  rounded 
chest,  made  in  the  consolidated  scoria,  still  is  shown  at 
Naples  —  the  flesh  consumed,  but  the  bust  remains  to 
tell  even  the  texture  of  the  dress,  as  well  as  the  finished 
beauty  of  the  neck  and  arms.     Two  others  were  chil- 
di-en,  and  when  they  were  unburied,  "some  of  their 
blond  hair  was  still  existent."  ^     In  the  common  fear, 
the  usual  distinctions  of   life  were  forgotten,  and  the 
mistress  and  her  slaves  were  huddled  together,  distin- 
guished, seventeen  centuries  after,  only  by  the  jewelry 
which  still  hung   upon  the  stifiened   skeleton  of  the 
former. 

Diomede  himself  evidently  made  an  attempt  to  es- 
cape, but  was  not  successful.  He  was  found  in  his 
garden  with  a  bunch  of  keys  in  his  hand,  and  near  by 
him  a  slave,  with  some  silver  vases  and  several  gold  and. 
silver  coins.  AVith  what  he  could  seize  upon,  the 
wealthy  proprietor  of  the  beautiful  villa,  attended  by 
his  trusty  slave,  left  his  family,  who  dared  not  follow 
him,  and  sought  safety  in  flight,  but  only  hastened  his 
terrible  end.     His  vast  wealth,  his  humble  slaves,  his 

'  History  of  Pompeii. 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  335 

offices  and  honors  were  not  respected  by  the  descend- 
ing fragments  of  rock,  some  one  of  which  probably- 
struck  him  to  the  ground,  and  terminated  his  earthly 
existence.  At  a  little  distance  from  his  terrified  family 
he  gasped  away  his  breath,  denied  the  consolation  of 
perishing  in  the  arms  of  those  who  loved  him. 

Near  one  of  the  gates  in  another  part  of  the  city, 
two  men  were  found  with  their  feet  fast  in  the  stocks. 
They  were  condemned  to  sit  there  a  few  days,  but  an 
awful  Providence  turned  the  sentence  into  one  far  more 
terrible ;  and  there,  for  seventeen  centuries,  they  sat,  ere 
friendly  hands  came  to  undo  the  stocks  and  let  them 
out.  In  that  awful  hour  when  the  city  was  destroyed, 
no  one  remembered  the  imprisoned  criminal.  The 
burning  cinders,  the  scorching  ashes,  and  the  boiling 
water  fell  upon  them,  rising  now  above  the  stiffened 
limbs,  now  to  the  armpits,  now  to  the  chin,  now  to  the 
lips,  until  all  was  over,  and  their  prison  was  their  tomb. 
Their  calls  for  aid  none  would  heed.  Their  compan- 
ions in  guilt,  their  jailers,  their  judges  had  alike  fled 
for  safety,  and  none  came  to  set  them  free. 

Passing  up  the  street  from  the  gate  is  the  house  of 
Sallust,  which  was  once  a  magnificent  structure ;  and 
the  remains  still  bear  many  marks  of  beauty  and  finish. 
The  rich  pilasters,  the  carved  images,  the  pavements, 
and  the  walls  still  indicate  the  opulence  of  the  former 
owner.  The  most  remarkable  thing  about  this  and 
many  of  the  other  houses  of  the  city  is  the  unusual 
richness  and  freshness  of  the  frescoes,  some  of  which, 
though  buried  many  centuries,  seem  as  distinct  and 
clear  as  if  painted  yesterday.  Some  forgotten  and  lost 
art  is  buried  here ;  for  scarcely  would  a  modern  fresco 
last  so  long  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances; 
but  these  have  resisted  not  only  the  streams  of  boiling 


336  EUROPA. 

water  and  the  showers  of  ashes,  but  also  the  steady, 
onward  march  of  ages,  which  with  ceaseless  tramp  have 
been  wandering  over  them. 

The  house  of  Pansa  is  traced  out,  well  arranged, 
spacious,  and  splendid,  even  in  its  ruins.  The  door- 
way still  remains,  with  its  beautiful  Corinthian  pilas- 
ters ;  and  the  interior  of  the  house,  though  broken  and 
defaced,  has  many  marks  of  its  former  elegance.  The 
mosaics  which  yet  remain,  when  the  dust  is  removed 
from  them,  are  found  to  be  very  beautiful,  and  show  a 
carefulness  of  design  and  correctness  of  finish  which 
would  do  honor  to  the  skill  and  taste  of  a  later  age. 

The  house  of  the  tragic  poet,  so  called,  which  was 
exhumed  in  182-i,  is  an  object  of  great  interest.  The 
various  apartments  are  full  as  the  walls  can  hang  with 
historical  paintings.  As  the  stranger  crosses  the  mar- 
ble threshhold  and  enters  the  hall,  a  chained  fox  dog, 
looking  fiercely  and  preparing  to  spring,  causes  him 
almost  to  retreat  in  dismay.  Farther  on  he  sees  various 
paintings,  illustrating  the  customs  and  manners  of  the 
ancient  inhabitants.  The  walls  seem  to  speak  forth 
eloquent  words,  and  the  longer  one  gazes,  the  more  is 
he  surprised  at  the  accuracy  of  the  work  before  him,  and 
its  wonderful  preservation  amid  the  changes  of  the  past. 
Here  is  Jupiter  wedding  the  unwilling  Thetis  to  a  mor- 
tal ;  the  priests  of  Diana  engaged  in  preparing  for  the 
human  sacrifice ;  the  great  chariot  race  between  the 
gods ;  the  battle  of  the  Amazons ;  and  many  others. 
Many  of  these  paintings  are  being  removed  to  Naples, 
where  they  are  visited  by  thousands,  who  gaze  upon 
them  with  wonder. 

The  houses  of  the  great  and  little  fountains,  so  called 
because  fountains  are  the  most  prominent  things  found 
in  them,  and  many  others  of  persons  known  to  have 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  337 

been  residents  at  the  time  in  Pompeii,  are  pointed 
out  to  the  traveler  as  he  pursues  his  way  along  the 
tomb-like  streets.  The  identity  of  these  houses  may 
be  somewhat  uncertain,  and  the  paintings  may  not 
represent  the  scenes  which  they  are  now  supposed  to 
delineate ;  but  this  does  not  detract  from  the  interest, 
or  lessen  the  melancholy  pleasure  we  feel  in  every 
object  which  engages  the  attention. 

The  shops  are  as  interesting  as  the  houses,  and  are 
more  definite  in  their  character.  There  yet  remain 
some  signs  by  which  the  different  places  of  trade,  and 
the  various  warehouses,  are  distinguished.  Statues  and 
paintings,  illustrative  of  the  different  articles  used, 
manufactured,  or  sold,  and  the  different  modes  of  op- 
eration, tell  you  where  to  find  the  shop  of  the  baker 
and  the  house  of  the  butcher.  Three  bakers'  shops 
have  been  uncovered,  in  which  are  the  ovens  ready  for 
use,  the  mills  in  which  the  grain  was  broken,  the  knead- 
ing troughs,  the  various  articles  used  in  the  making  of 
bread,  and  the  bread  itself,  well  done  since  it  has  been 
baking  so  long  over  the  fires  of  the  volcano.  The 
bread,  of  course,  and  the  baker's  articles,  have  been 
removed  to  Naples,  and  are  on  exhibition  there.  The 
loaves  are  flat,  baked  in  moulds,  and  some  of  them  are 
stamped  with  the  name  of  the  maker.  They  vary  in 
size,  from  six  inches  to  twelve  inches  in  diameter.  The 
ashes  in  which  they  were  burnt  baked  them  to  a  crisp 
first,  and  then  preserved  them. 

The  shop  of  the  apothecary,  with  all  his  implements, 
has  been  found  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preservation ;  and 
various  other  evidences  of  the  trade  of  the  city  were 
found  remaining  when  the  excavations  were  made. 
These  all  show  that  the  arts  were  more  perfect  in  Italy, 
under  the  reign  of  pagan  emperors,  than  under  the 
43  cc 


338  EUROPA. 

oppressive  enactments  of  the  pope.  The  course  of  the 
people  has  been  downward  for  centuries.  The  public 
mind  has  been  enslaved,  the  public  conscience  has  been 
seared,  and  the  public  hand  has  been  palsied.  The 
sweet  voice  of  music,  and  the  more  rude  sound  of  the 
hammer,  have  alike  been  hushed,  and  the  noble  facul- 
ties of  the  artisan  have  been  turned  to  the  construction 
of  infernal  machines,  to  rack  humanity  out  of  the 
children  of  God. 

Thus  far  I  have  spoken  only  of  private  residences 
and  places  of  trade ;  but  these  are  not  of  most  interest. 
The  public  offices  of  Pompeii,  which  have  already  been 
uncovered,  enable  one  to  form  the  most  correct  esti- 
mate of  the  splendor  of  the  city.  The  Temple  of  Isis, 
eighty-four  feet  long  and  seventy-five  feet  broad,  must 
have  been  a  structure  of  great  magnificence.  It  is  so 
perfect  that  the  arrangement  and  construction  of  the 
building  can  be  discovered  w4th  ease.  The  private 
staircases  and  the  secret  tabernacles,  the  vestures  and 
the  sacred  vessels,  have  been  found.  The  altars  on 
which  the  human  sacrifice  was  burnt,  and  the  oratory 
in  which  his  bones  and  ashes  were  put,  have  come 
down  to  our  times.  The  Doric  columns  which  once 
formed  and  supported  the  portico,  the  broken  statue  of 
the  divinity,  and  the  various  adornments  of  the  temple, 
have  been  examined  and  identified.  Near  the  door  of 
the  temple  was  found  a  skeleton  of  one  of  the  priests, 
drawn  into  the  temple,  perhaps  for  plunder,  and  perhaps 
for  devotion,  at  the  awful  hour  when  the  city  was  being 
overwhelmed;  the  ashes,  pressing  against  the  door 
without,  rendered  escape  impossible.  What  were  his 
feelings  none  can  tell;  but  the  position  of  the  form 
shows  that  he  struggled  terribly  for  liie.  A  hatchet 
was  in  his  hand,  and  on  the  walls,  one  of  which  he 


HERCULANEUM  AND  POMPEII.  339 

had  beaten  through,  were  marks  where  he  had  been 
endeavoring  to  cut  his  way  out  of  prison,  but  in  vain. 
The  thick  wall  resisted  all  his  efforts  ;  the  ashen  rain 
fell  faster ;  and  the  noxious  gases,  sifting  into  his  nar- 
row sepulcher,  soon  destroyed  his  life. 

In  another  place,  a  priest  was  found  sitting  at  the 
table  eating.  The  remains  of  his  dinner  were  before 
him.  The  remnant  of  an  egg  and  the  limb  of  a  fowl  ^ 
tell  us  on  what  lie  was  making  his  repast.  Driven  in 
from  more  public  duties,  he  sat  down  to  eat,  thinking 
the  storm  would  soon  cease.  Now  and  then,  as  he 
hummed  a  low  tune,  or  breathed  a  superstitious  prayer, 
he  looked  out  upon  the  mountain  that  thundered,  light- 
ened, bellowed,  and  blazed  full  before  him,  and  won- 
dered what  new  display  the  gods  were  about  to  make. 
And  there  he  sat,  the  room  insensibly  filling  up  with 
the  vapor,  which  soon  destroyed  respiration ;  and,  bow- 
ing his  head  upon  his  hand,  he  fell  asleep,  to  wake  no 
more.  The  temple  was  soon  covered  with  the  ashes, 
which,  forcing  their  way  into  the  room,  made  a  wind- 
ing-sheet for  the  victim. 

In  another  room,  a  priest  was  found  with  a  handful 
of  coin,  which  he  had  probably  stolen  in  the  hour 
when  fear  prevailed  in  every  breast.  Stopping  to  count 
his  treasure,  or  to  look  for  more,  he  stopped  too  long  ; 
and,  with  the  spoils  in  his  hand,  he  died.  Other  priests 
were  found,  enabling  us  to  conjecture,  from  the  posi- 
tions in  which  they  were,  that  death  came  very  unex- 
pectedly, while  they  were  attending  to  ordinary  duties. 
Who  they  were,  and  how  they  felt,  none  can  tell ;  but 
when  ages  had  rolled  away,  they  were  found  in  the 
temple  of  their  idolatry,  victims  at  an  altar  where  they 
had  often  caused  human  blood  to  flow  in  torrents. 

'  Cleaveland's  Visit  to  Pompeii. 


340  EUROPA. 

The  stranger  visits  in  succession  the  Theater,  the 
Pantheon,  the  Forum,  the  Senate  House,  the  Temple 
of  Justice,  all  of  which  are  so  far  perfect,  that  the 
purpose  for  which  they  were  used  cannot  be  mistaken. 
They  are  generally  built  of  brick,  and  covered  with 
marble  and  stucco,  and,  in  their  day,  must  have  been 
beautiful  in  the  extreme. 

The  Amphitheater  is  a  vast  stone  building,  four  hun- 
dred and  thirty  feet  long  and  three  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  feet  wide,  oval  in  form,  and  used  for  gladiatorial 
shows.  In  the  vaults  below  were  kept  the  beasts  and 
the  unfortunate  men  Avho  were  compelled  to  meet  them 
in  deadly  combat.  A  skeleton  found  near  the  Amphi- 
theater is  supposed  to  have  been  a  gladiator  who  was 
in  the  arena  at  the  time,  or  who  was  waiting  for  the 
storm  to  subside,  in  order  that  the  assembly  might  con- 
vene. But  he  encountered  a  more  terrible  foe  than  the 
lion  chafed  and  wounded.  Death  met  him,  and  the 
gladiator  fell  in  such  a  contest  as  he  had  never  engaged 
in  before.  His  weapons  were  powerless,  his  strength 
useless  ;  and  he  lay  dov/n  to  die,  with  scarcely  an 
effort  to  withstand  the  giant  against  whom  he  was 
contending. 

The  streets  of  Pompeii  are  generally  narrow,  some 
of  them  having  raised  footwalks.  They  are  commonly 
paved  Avith  lava,  and  are  w^ell  worn.  It  seems  as  if 
ages  had  roamed  over  them  before  they  were  buried 
up.  You  walk  them,  looking  up  now  to  stores,  and 
then  upon  public  buildings,  remembering  that  here  was 
founcl  a  skeleton  crushed  under  a  falling  column,  and 
there,  under  the  ashes,  were  found  a  mother  and  her 
babe.  The  appearance  of  the  city  is  much  as  one  of 
our  most  beautiful  modern  cities  would  be,  if,  on  some 
terrible  night,  it  should  be  covered  up  by  a  shower  of 


HERCULANEUM  AND  TOMPEII.  341 

ashes,  stones,'  and  lava,  and,  after  a  while,  should  be 
duo-  out  and  uncovered,  and  should  be  found  with  the 
roofs  all  broken  in,  the  windows  and  doors  gone  or 
shattered,  and  the  walls  standing,  with  the  stone  fronts 
and  fine  columns,  in  many  cases,  uninjured.  Some- 
thing as  one  feels  when  he  walks  thougli  a  street  the 
houses  on  both  sides  of  which  have  been  shaken  down 
by  a  tornado,  or  swept  by  an  extensive  conflagration, 
leaving  nothing  but  rocks  and  ruins,  tenantless  walls 
and  crumbling  remains,  does  he  feel  when  pursuing 
his  way  through  the  streets  of  Pompeii.  He  does  not 
wish  to  speak ;  the  spirits  of  the  past  seem  to  be 
around  him;  he  converses  with  forgotten  ages,  and 
leaves  the  spot  saying,  "  I  have  seen  a  vision."  Again 
and  again  does  he  turn  back,  gazing  first  on  the  de- 
stroyer, and  then  on  the  destroyed.  Fancy  again  re- 
builds the  city,  makes  it  active  with  life,  and  vocal  with 
pleasure  and  industry.  The  Temple  of  Isis,  of  Jupi- 
ter, of  Venus,  the  Forum,  the  Amphitheater,  the  houses 
of  the  noble  citizens,  are  all  as  they  were  ere  the  terri- 
ble overthrow.  He  looks  upon  the  mountain,  which, 
while  he  gazes,  becomes  agitated  and  troubled.  Down 
its  sides  flow  torrents  of  lava ;  from  its  summit,  around 
which  shadows  and  specters  dance,  pour  the  shower 
of  ashes  and  the  tides  of  boiling  water  which  fall  on 
the  city  below.  Consternation  seizes  the  people.  One 
loud,  mighty  cry  —  "  To  the  sea  !  to  the  sea  !  "  —  arises 
from  priest  and  poet,  gladiator  and  senator ;  and  out 
they  sweep,  masters  and  slaves,  leaving  behind  them 
houses  and  lands,  and,  in  many  cases,  sick  and  aged 
friends.  Still  he  gazes ;  but  the  people  are  gone,  the 
mountain  is  quiet,  and  nought  remains  of  Pompeii  but 
forty  acres  of  ruins,  and  a  vast  pile  of  sepulchers, 
which  are  covered  with  the  dust  of  eighteen  centuries. 

cc* 


342  EUROPA. 

The  articles  of  household  furniture,  and  such  like, 
are  deposited  in  the  Museum  at  Naples,  and  are  rich  in 
their  variety.  The  building  itself  is  a  magnificent 
one,  and  its  contents  are  all  interesting  as  antiquities. 
We  passed  through  some  fifteen  or  twenty  rooms  and 
galleries,  each  one  devoted  to  some  particular  collection 
of  relics.  Here  are  the  rooms  for  mosaics  and  fres- 
coes, filled  with  well-preserved  paintings  of  men,  birds, 
beasts,  reptiles,  graces,  sibyls,  angels,  and  devils  which 
have  been  found  in  the  exhumed  houses ;  the  statuary 
rooms,  eloquent  with  the  stately  forms  of  kings,  war- 
riors, priests,  and  senators  ;  the  Egyptian  rooms,  with 
many  a  curious  thing  from  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs, 
such  as  mummies,  male  and  female,  in  the  different 
stages  of  unrollment ;  the  jewelry  rooms,  where  are 
rings,  pins,  cameos,  of  all  sizes,  and  of  immense  value, 
taken  from  the  limbs  of  the  skeletons  found  in  the  cities 
which  Vesuvius  destroyed  ;  the  room  for  cooking  uten- 
sils, of  all  kinds,  from  a  tin  pot  to  a  cook  stove ;  and 
so  on,  to  the  end  of  the  catalogue.  Time  would  fail  to 
describe  the  objects  of  interest  which,  after  the  burial 
of  centuries,  are  here  classified  and  arranged,  to  the 
amazement  of  all  who  visit  the  place.  Here  is  the 
petrified  body  of  Diomede  ;  a  statue  found  in  the  Tem- 
ple of  Isis ;  an  alabaster  jar  of  fragrant  balsam,  nearly 
two  thousand  years  old,  in  a  tolerable  state  of  preserva- 
tion, as  it  was  taken  from  an  apothecary  shop ;  chan- 
deliers from  the  house  of  Diomede ;  the  ancient  stocks 
in  which  the  two  skeletons  w^ere  found  made  fast ;  the 
skull  of  the  sentinel,  in  his  rusty  armor,  as  he  was 
found  at  the  gate,  on  duty  still  in  death.  Besides 
these,  we  saw  eggs,  meat,  soup,  bread,  fruit  of  various 
kinds,  so  wonderfully  preserved,  that  none  could  mis- 
take them. 


IIERCULANEUM  AND   POMPEII.  343 

What  new  wonders  will  be  discovered,  what  other 
skeletons  will  yet  be  found,  what  new  revelations  will 
yet  be  made,  none  can  tell ;  but  doubtless,  as  street 
after  street  and  building  after  building  are  uncovered, 
new  developments  will  be  made,  and  new  light  thrown 
upon  the  dark  history  of  the  past.  The  articles  al- 
ready disinterred  teach  us  the  perfection  to  which  the 
arts  were  carried  by  the  ancients,  and  show  us  a  re- 
markable similarity  in  many  of  the  household  utensils 
of  the  past  and  the  present  times.  I  regard  the  day 
spent  in  visiting  Pompeii,  and  the  night  previous,  which 
was  employed  in  climbing  the  sides  of  Vesuvius,  as  the 
most  remarkable  of  my  whole  tour.  The  scenes  wit- 
nessed are  the  greenest  and  freshest  in  my  remembrance, 
and  doubtless  will  be  the  last  which  will  be  obliterated 
from  my  memory.  I  seem  still  to  walk  the  streets  of 
Pompeii,  and  gaze  upon  the  relics  of  the  past. 


EUEOPA. 


XXVII. 

VESUVIUS,  THE  DESTROYER. 

This  mountain  is  thirty-six  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
high,  and  for  ages  has  been  the  scene  of  violent  convul- 
sions, which  have  increased  in  frequency  with  the  lapse 
of  time.  The  first  of  which  we  have  any  authentic 
account  is  that  which  buried  Herculaneum  and  Pom- 
peii. This  was  followed  by  other  and  less  destructive 
eruptions  in  203,  472,  512,  685,  993,  1036,  1306, 
1631,  1730,  1766,  1779,  1794,  and  more  frequently 
durmg  the  present  century.  Some  of  these  have  been 
very  violent  and  destructive,  and  have  carried  terror 
through  all  the  towns  and  cities  which  lie  scattered 
around  its  base.  That  of  1794  shook  down  and  over- 
whelmed the  houses  of  Torre  del  Greco,  a  town  of 
some  twenty  thousand  inhabitants  ;  that  of  1822  sent 
forth  such  showers  of  ashes,  that  they  were  flying  for 
more  than  a  hundi*ed  miles,  and  the  sun  was  darkened 
at  noonday  the  region  round  about.  Almost  every 
vear,  the  mountaui  shows  some  fearful  sic^ns  and  utters 
its  terrific  anathemas. 

We  set  off  to  visit  it,  one  night,  about  midnight. 
As  we  took  our  places  in  the  carriage,  a  fine  balloon, 
splendidly  illuminated,  ascended  from  a  distant  part  of 
the  city,  like  a  globe  of  fire  burning  over  oiu*  heads 
a  while,  and  was  finally  lost  in  the  clouds.  It  was 
sent  up  in  honor  of  some  saint;  but  we  enjoyed  it 
as  much,  as  we  rode  along,  as  if  it  were  a  tribute  of 


VESUVIUS,  THE  DESTROYER.  345 

respect  to  our  worthy  selves.  We  drove  as  far  as  Por- 
tici,  where  we  exchanged  our  carriage  for  horses.  I 
had  never  rode  horseback  an  hour  in  my  life  ;  and  the 
idea  of  climbing  up  the  side  of  the  mountain  in  this 
way  did  not  please  me.  However,  the  gentle  horse  was 
given  to  me,  and  I  mounted  with  some  forebodings. 
Neither  of  us  could  boast  of  horses;  for  five  such 
looking  creatures  are  seldom  brought  together ;  but  as 
they  were  the  best  we  could  get,  Ave  started  in  smgular 
file,  Joseph  leading  off.  We  had  driven  out  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  when  the  animal  I  rode,  without 
cause  or  provocation,  in  as  fine  a  street  as  ever  was, 
plunged  headlong  upon  the  pavements,  sending  me 
sj)rawling  upon  the  stones,  to  the  great  amusement  of 
my  companions.  I  succeeded  in  getting  up  myself, 
with  a  bruised  knee  and  an  aching  head ;  but  my 
horse,  gentle  creature,  waited  to  be  helj)ed  up.  We 
finally  got  him  upon  his  feet,  when  I  persisted  in  ex- 
changing with  the  guide,  who  w^as  riding  a  nice  little 
creature,  and  which,  after  a  deal  of  scolding,  he  gave 
up.  I  mounted,  and  found  my  condition  vastly  im- 
proved ;  and  we  again  set  forth.  For  some  time,  the 
ascent  was  gradual,  the  road  winding  and  wide,  passing 
along  by  cultivated  fields  and  rich  orchards  ;  but  as  Vv'e 
approached  the  mountain,  these  evidences  of  fertility 
were  exchanged  for  a  state  of  indescribable  barrenness. 
The  beds  and  fields  of  lava,  now  spread  out  as  if  lev- 
eled by  the  hand  of  man,  and  anon  rising  in  dark  red 
walls  on  every  side,  cast  a  dreary  gloom  over  the  whole 
prospect ;  and  we  were  glad  to  stop,  now  and  then,  to 
gaze  down  upon  the  beautiful  spectacle  below,  vfhich 
stretched  itself  from  the  foot  of  the  mountain  to  the 
shores  of  the  Bay  of  Naples.  Still  on  we  went,  by  the 
Hermitage  and  the  Observatory,  up  into  more  desolate 
44 


346  EUROPA. 

fields,  where  not  a  green  spot  nor  a  single  ^ine  appears 
to  relieve  the  eye  or  detract  from  the  desolate  scene. 
There  are  some  places,  however,  on  the  sides  of  the 
mountain,  where  grows  a  vine  of  the  grape  of  which  a 
wine  is  made  called  Lachryma  Christi,  or  the  "  Tears  of 
Christ,"  which  is  said  to  be  very  delicious,  and  which  is 
sold  at  a  very  high  price.  Up  higher  we  ascended  ;  our 
poor  beasts  picked  out  their  way  amid  the  fallen  blocks 
of  lava,  now  leaping  across  ravines,  and  then  rubbing 
their  sides  against  the  torn  and  ragged  masses,  until 
the  bridle  became  useless,  and  we  gave  ourselves  up  to 
the  instincts  of  the  animals  on  which  we  rode.  About 
three  hours  after  starting  from  Naples,  we  arrived  at 
the  base  of  the  cone,  and  fastened  our  horses  in  the 
crater  of  an  extinct  volcano,  or  rather  an  old  crater  of 
the  still  trembling  and  fiery  Vesuvius.  And  now  com- 
mealced  our  toils.  The  cone  is  desperately  steep,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  clamber  up  -over  rough,  rolling 
pieces  of  lava,  which  are  set  in  motion  as  the  foot 
treads  upon  them,  and  frequently  three  steps  are  taken 
backward  where  one  is  set  forward.  For  a  while,  we 
toiled  up  the  steep  without  assistance ;  but,  at  length, 
we  called  to  several  men  trained  to  the  work,  who 
started  with  us  from  the  base  of  the  cone,  who  handed 
us  leather  thongs,  one  end  of  wdiich  was  fastened  to 
their  own  shoulders.  Accustomed  to  climbing,  they 
moved  on  rapidly,  and  gave  us  much  assistance.  The 
tedious  work  lasted  an  hour,  when  we  found  ourselves 
at  the  summit,  and  standing  on  the  verge  of  the  terri- 
ble crater,  just  as  the  sun  arose  in  all  its  beauty,  and 
poured  a  flood  of  golden  light  over  the  mountain  and 
the  surrounding  scenery. 

At  a  distance,  Vesuvius  looks  like  a  sugar  loaf,  Avith 
a  small  flat  surface  at  the  summit,  from  which  a  cloud 


VESUVIUS,  THE   DESTROYER.  347 

of  smoke  is  continually  ascending-.  On  reaching  the 
apex,  we  find  that  what  appears  to  be  a  level  plain  is  a 
tunnel-shaped  crater,  with  its  yawning  mouth  about 
one  third  of  a  mile  across,  and  verging  to  a  conical 
point  in  the  center.  The  morning  was  a  very  fine  one 
for  our  view,  as  we  stood  on  the  east  side,  and  looked 
across  the  crater  towards  the  west,  which  was  consider- 
ably higher.  The  ground  under  our  feet  was  hot,  and 
little  crevices  were  emitting  steam  and  smoke.  The 
beds  of  sulphur,  spread  out  all  around,  look  pleasingly 
fearful ;  and  the  idea  of  the  thin  crust  giving  way,  and 
letting  the  traveler  down  into  the  ever-churning  vortex 
below,  will  enter  the  mind,  and  haunt  it  with  forebod- 
ings of  no  very  agreeable  character.  As  we  stood  there 
on  the  verge  of  the  crater,  the  deep  below  sent  up  its 
clouds  of  mist  and  steam,  which  now  ascended  towards 
heaven,  and  now,  hovering  over  the  mountain,  compiete- 
ly  enveloped  us  in  the  sulphureous  gases.  We  gazed 
down  into  the  awful  cavern  from  which  have  poured 
forth,  in  days  agone,  the  desolating  stream  which  has 
carried  terror  to  defenceless  homes  and  stricken  hearts. 
The  appearance  of  Vesuvius  now  is  different  from 
what  it  was  w^hen  by  it  Pompeii  was  destroyed.  It 
changes  its  form  with  every  passing  age,  and  spreads 
wider  the  barren  covering  upon  the  surrounding  coun- 
try. Strabo,  in  his  time,  speaks  of  the  volcano  as  ris- 
ing behind  the  beautiful  cities  on  the  shores  of  the  sea, 
"well  cultivated,  and  inhabited  all  around  except  its 
top,  which  was,  for  the  most  part,  level,  and  entirely 
barren,  ashy  to  the  view,  displaying  cavernous  hollows 
in  cineritious  rocks,  which  look  as  if  they  had  been 
eaten  in  the  fire,  so  that  we  may  suppose  this  spot  to 
have  been  a  volcano  formerly,  with  burning  craters,  but 
extinguished  for  want  of  fuel." 


348  EUROPA. 

But  now,  instead  of  being  cultivated  and  fertile,  the 
sides  of  Vesuvius  are  desolate,  and  the  red  masses  of 
lava  have  a  cheerless  appearance.  Far  down  the  moun- 
tain, these  fields  of  rough,  uncomely  pieces  of  lava, 
lying  as  they  fell  when  the  mountain  was  convulsed, 
are  absolutely  forbidding  and  painful.  Previous  to  the 
destruction  of  Pompeii,  that  city  stretched  nearly  up  to 
the  summit  of  the  volcanic  mountain.  Beautiful  villas 
were  seen  far  up  the  wooded  sides,  looking  down  with 
smiles  upon  the  habitations  below.  But  now  the  villas 
and  towns  seem  to  be  retreating  as  far  as  possible  from 
the  destroyer,  and  shrinking  away  from  the  base  of  the 
terrible  engine  of  destruction.  As  we  stood  upon  the 
verge,  or  walked  around  the  crater,  we  cast  stones  into 
the  abyss,  which,  rolling  down  the  sides,  gathered  great 
velocity  as  they  went,  and  tumbled  into  the  cavern  be- 
low. From  the  time  they  disappeared  until  we  ceased 
to  hear  them  strike,  and  rattle,  and  rebound,  with  a 
sound  as  of  breaking  glass,  w^e  counted  eighty  seconds. 

We  took  our  breakfast  on  the  summit  of  the  moun- 
tain. Our  guide  had  brought  with  him  some  eggs  and 
other  articles  of  food,  which  we  devoured  with  an  ex- 
cellent appetite.  Our  eggs  we  cooked  in  one  of  the 
little  veins  beneath  our  feet.  With  a  cane,  the  soil 
was  opened,  and  the  eggs  put  in  and  covered  up,  and, 
in  a  few  minutes,  were  taken  out  well  roasted,  and 
ready  for  our  rocky  table.  While  we  were  taking  our 
singular  meal,  our  guide  related  to  us  an  account  of  a 
visit  made  by  him  to  Vesuvius,  some  years  since,  when 
it  was  in  a  convulsed  state.  He  acted  as  guide  to  a 
party  of  scientific  gentlemen,  who  were  engaged  in 
philosophical  investigations.  When  they  arrived  near 
the  crater,  they  found  several  parties  who  had  repaired 
to  the  spot  for  the  same  purpose.     For  some  days,  the 


VESUVIUS,   THE   DESTROYER.  349 

signs  of  an  eruption  had  been  visible ;  and,  as  they 
drew  near  the  summit,  the  very  earth  seemed  ready  to 
open  and  let  them  fall  into  its  bowels.  For  a  while, 
they  enjoyed  the  spectacle  with  no  apprehension  of 
danger,  though  the  experienced  guide  urged  them  to 
descend.  At  length,  a  few  puffs  of  smoke,  as  black  as 
midnight,  followed  by  a  stream  of  fire,  with  the  sound 
as  of  breaking  thunder,  issued  from  the  mountain,  and 
the  lava,  scoria,  and  ashes  fell  all  around  them.  Three 
w^ere  smitten  down  at  once,  one  having  the  flesh  stripped 
from  one  side  of  his  body  almost  entirely.  Then  began 
a  disordered  retreat,  in  which  eleven  persons  were 
killed.  They  commenced  the  descent  upon  the  broken, 
rolling  pieces  of  lava,  and  soon  falling  headlong,  and 
tumbling  over  and  over,  were  found  below,  mangled  and 
dead.  This  tale  added,  if  possible,  to  the  awful  emo- 
tions with  which  we  gazed  down  into  that  lake  of 
liquid  fire,  which  had  burnt  tliere  for  ages  in  its  ex- 
haustless  dominion ;  and  as  we  turned  our  eyes  down- 
ward towards  the  fearful  cavern,  on  the  rim  of  which 
we  sat,  we  almost  expected  to  see  it  send  forth  its  tide 
of  burning  ruin  upon  our  own  heads. 

A  traveler  visiting  Vesuvius  when  it  was  more  agi- 
tated than  when  we  saw  it,  says,  — 

"  It  was  a  marvelous  scene,  that  vast  black  valley, 
with  its  lake  of  fire  at  the  bottom,  its  cone  of  fire  on 
the  top.  The  discharges  were  constant,  and  had  some- 
thing appalling  in  their  sound.  We  were  almost  too 
much  excited  for  observation.  Now  we  looked  at  the 
cone  of  green  and  gold  that  sank  and  rose,  faded  and 
brightened,  smoked  or  flamed;  then  at  the  seething 
lake;  then  at  the  strange  mountain  of  lava;  then  at 
the  burning  fissures  that  yawned  around.  There  were 
yet  some  remnants  of  day ;  a  gloomy  twilight,  at  least, 

DD 


350  EUROPA. 

revealed  the  jagged  rim  of  the  valley.  Down  we  went, 
down,  down,  to  the  very  edge  of  the  boiling  caldron 
of  melted  lava,  that  rolled  its  huge  weaves  towards  the 
black  shore,  waves  Avhose  foam  and  spray  were  fire  and 
flame !  An  eruption  evidently  was  preparing,  and  soon 
indeed  took  place.  We  missed  the  sight;  but  what 
we  saw  was  grand  enough.  A  troop  of  heavy  black 
clouds  was  hurrying  athwart  the  sky,  showing  the  stars 
ever  and  anon  between,  '  like  a  swarm  of  golden  bees.' 
The  wind  roared  and  bellowed  among  the  lava  gullies, 
while  the  cone  discharged  its  blocks  of  burning  lava  or 
its  show^ers  of  red  sparks,  with  a  boom  like  that  of  a 
bark  of  artillery." 

Another,  giving  a  description  of  the  mountain  when 
in  a  more  terrible  state  of  convulsion,  writes,  "  I  was 
watching  the  motions  of  the  mountain  from  the  mole 
of  Naples,  which  has  a  full  view  of  the  volcano,  and 
had  been  a  witness  to  several  picturesque  effects  pro- 
duced by  the  reflection  of  the  deep  red  fire  which 
issued  from  the  crater  and  mounted  up  in  the  midst  of 
the  clouds,  when  a  summer  storm,  called  here  a  tropia, 
came  on  suddenly,  and  blended  its  heavy  watery  clouds 
with  the  sulphureous  and  mineral  ones,  which  were 
already,  like  so  many  other  mountains,  piled  over  the 
summit  of  the  volcano.  At  this  moment,  a  fountain  of 
fire  shot  up  to  an  indescribable  hight,  casting  so  bright 
a  light  that  the  smallest  object  could  clearly  be  dis- 
cerned at  any  place  within  six  miles  or  more  of  Vesu- 
vius. The  black,  stormy  clouds  passing  over,  and  at 
times  covering  the  whole  or  a  part  of  the  bright  col- 
umn of  fire,  at  other  times  clearing  away  and  giving  a 
full  view  of  it,  with  the  various  tints  produced  by  the 
reverberated  light  on  the  white  clouds  above,  in  con- 
trast with  the  pale  flashes  of  forked  lightnings  that 


VESUVIUS,   THE   DESTROYER.  351 

attended  the  tropia,  formed  such  a  scene  as  no  power 
of  art  can  describe." 

Having  viewed  this  grand  work  of  nature,  we  de- 
scended from  the  fiery  mount.  The  same  distance 
which  required  the  laborious  climbing  of  an  hour,  we 
accomplished  in  less  than  seven  minutes.  We  went 
up  (Tver  rough,  rolling  stones ;  we  came  down  in  a  vein 
of  ashes.  Convulsed  with  laughter  and  shouting  to 
each  other,  we  descended  nearly  ten  feet  at  a  leap, 
sinking  in  the  soft,  flowing  ashes  as  if  it  were  liglit, 
drifting  snow,  raising  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  setting  the 
yielding  body  in  motion  all  around. 

The  traveler  looks  back  to  the  toilsome  journey  up 
the  sides  of  that  quaking  mountain  with  real  delight. 
It  forms  an  epoch  in  his  life,  to  w^hich  he  looks  back 
as  he  grows  old.  The  view  which  he  obtains,  whether 
the  furnace  is  sending  out  its  tides  of  lava,  or  whether 
it  is  in  a  quiescent  state,  gathering  by  a  momentary 
slumber  fearful  powers  for  a  new  outbreak,  he  can 
never  forget.  It  is  so  unlike  any  other  object  on 
which  he  can  gaze,  and  withal  so  terrible,  that  he 
carries  to  the  grave  with  him  the  acquaintance  which 
he  has  formed  with  the  rumbling,  churning,  smoking, 
storming  pit,  down  into  which  no  traveler  has  de- 
scended and  returned  again  to  tell  the  story  of  its 
fiery  mines,  which  age  after  age  burn  on,  supplied 
Avith  fuel  from  the  hand  of  God,  and  fanned  by  revolv- 
ing systems. 

And  there  they  will  continue  to  burn  as  age  after 
age  rolls  away,  and  from  time  to  time  will  flow  forth 
the  tide  of  fire,  which  will  pour  itself  dow^n  upon  the 
beautiful  plains  below,  causing  the  inhabitants  to  fiy  m 
terror  from  the  homes  which  they  have  decorated,  and 


352  EUROPA. 

the  graves  over  which  they  have  wept,  to  find  shelter 
and  repose  in  villages  beyond  the  reach  of  Vesuvius 
and  its  waves  of  rum. 

How  poor,  weak,  and  mean  do  the  noblest  works  of 
art  appear,  in  contrast  with  the  magnificent  works 
of  God !  The  glory  of  Westminster  Abbey  and  St. 
Peter's  dwindles  away  when  compared  with  the  ever- 
churning  volcano,  and  the  snow-covered  ridges  of 
mountains.  Man  is  dumb,  art  is  speechless,  when  from 
the  open  lips  of  nature  God  utters  his  voice.  The 
creature  is  lost  —  he  forgets  himself;  while  high  as 
the  heavens,  and  broad  as  the  universe,  is  God,  tower- 
ing over  humanity,  yet  reaching  down  to  it ;  above  all 
art,  yet  encouraging  it ;  superior  to  all  science,  yet  the 
Author  of  it.     Such  is  nature !  such  is  God  ! 


THE   ROME   OF   THE   CiESARS.  353 


XXVIII. 

THE  ROME  OF  THE  C^SARS. 

There  is  yet  a  magic  in  the  name  of  Home,  though 
its  ancient  glory  has  departed.  Around  that  word 
clusters  all  that  is  noble  and  generous  in  republican 
government,  all  that  is  illustrious  in  wealth  and  power, 
all  that  is  captivating  in  human  greatness,  all  that  is 
degrading  in  cruel  persecutions,  all  that  is  dishonorable 
in  treachery  and  usurpation,  all  that  is  base  in  duplicity 
and  crime,  all  that  is  contemptible  in  wretchedness 
and  ignorance,  and  all  that  is  devilish  in  pagan  idola- 
try and  Papal  superstition.  Pure  Christianity,  military 
greatness,  imperial  despotism,  and  Popish  absurdity 
have  in  turn  swept  across  the  seven  hills,  and  chased 
each  other  along  the  banks  of  the  yellow  Tiber.  From 
the  death  of  Romulus,  its  founder,  to  this  hour.  Pome 
has  been  the  center  of  the  world  —  the  object  of  in- 
terest and  expectation,  and  in  turn  alike  the  friend  and 
foe  of  man. 

We  arrived  at  Pome,  on  our  way  from  Naples,  just 
at  nightfall  —  fit  time  to  enter  a  city  whose  sun  is  well 
nigh  set.  Long  before  we  arrived,  the  dome  of  St. 
Peter's  was  seen  looming  uj)  before  us,  like  a  vast  bank 
resting  against  the  sky;  and  as  we  thundered  along 
the  road  towards  it  in  a  lumbering  diligence,  conversa- 
tion was  suspended,  and  each  one  of  our  company,  busy 
with  his  own  thoughts,  strained  his  eager  eyes  to  dis- 
tinguish in  the  distance  the  Eternal  City. 

45  DD  * 


354  EUROPA. 

"  Ah,  little  thought  I,  when  in  school  I  sat, 
A  schoolboy  on  his  bench,  in  early  dawn, 
Glowing  with  Roman  story,  I  should  live 
To  tread  the  Appian  .... 

....  or  climb  the  Palatine, 
Long  while  the  seat  of  Rome ! " 

We  arrived  at  length,  and  after  being  defrauded  by 
custom-house  officials,  passed  through  the  Porta  Caval- 
leggieri,  —  where  the  French  suffered  so  dreadfully  in 
their  attack  on  the  city  a  few  years  ago,  and  at  which 
they  entered  with  the  most  terrible  loss,  —  leaving  St. 
Peter's  to  the  left,  rolling  down  the  hill,  across  the 
Pons  tEHus,  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  over  which  the  Roman  flag  was  flying,  but 
beneath  which  French  soldiers  were  leaning  on  their 
arms,  the  masters  of  the  city,  and  the  rulers  of  the 
pope  himself  We  found  lodgings  on  favorable  terms 
at  a  hotel  in  Via  della  Croce,  and  in  a  few  hours  were 
comfortably  at  home,  engaged  in  making  our  plans  for 
a  general  survey  of  the  city. 

Rome  is  located  in  the  midst  of  the  great  Roman 
Campagna,  on  seven  hills.  The  Tiber  divides  it,  and 
flows  in  its  sluggish  course  through  its  very  midst. 
The  best  view  is  obtained  from  the  tower  of  the  Capi- 
tol, on  the  Capitoline  hill,  from  which  the  other  six, 
the  Quirinal,  the  Viminal,  the  Palatine,  the  Aventine, 
the  Esquiline,  and  the  Cselian  are  all  in  view.  The 
Capitol  seems  to  divide  what  are  called  the  old  and  the 
new  cities.  We  look  out  from  the  elevation  in  one 
direction,  and  at  our  feet  is  the  old  Roman  Forum, 
stretching  away  from  the  slope  of  the  hill  to  the  Pala- 
tine; conspicuously  in  front  are  the  ruins  of  the  old 
Temf)le  of  Saturn  and  the  House  of  Concord ;  the  Arch 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  CiESARS.  355 

of  Septimiiis  Severus,  in  a  good  state  of  preservation, 
and  covered  with  bass-reliefs  ; 

"  The  nameless  column,  with  a  buried  base  ; " 

the  pillars  of  the  Temples  of  Minerva  and  Romulus ; 
the  winding  Via  Sacra,  the  favorite  walk  of  Horace, 
the  world-renowned  Way,  trod  by  emperors,  warriors, 
and  priests  ;  the  old  Coliseum,  looking  like  some  gigan- 
tic citadel,  covered  with  the  moss  of  ages,  and  gazing 
down  with  frowns  upon  the  surrounding  city;  the  Arch 
of  Titus,  with  bass-reliefs  representing  the  conqueror's 
return  from  Jerusalem,  bringing  with  him  the  conse- 
crated vessels  of  the  Jewish  temple ;  and  numberless 
other  relics  of  the  dead  and  buried  past. 

On  the  other  side,  the  new  city  lies  spread  out  before 
the  eye.  The  Corso,  black  with  the  passing  multi- 
tudes ;  the  Tiber,  wmding  its  way  upon  its  noiseless 
course ;  the  domes  of  churches  and  the  roofs  of  con- 
vents ;  and,  back  of  all,  the  form  of  St.  Peter's,  rising 
in  its  vast  proportions  and  beautiful  architecture,  while 
all  around  is  stretched  the  desolate  Campagna,  like  a 
plain  of  death,  thick  with  malaria  and  contagion.  Far 
off  in  one  direction  are  the  mountains,  whose  sides 
are  adorned  with  villas,  vineyards,  and  tombs  ;  away  in 
another  direction  rolls  the  blue  sea,  whose  melancholy 
moan  seems  to  come  borne  upon  every  breeze,  as  if 
sighing  the  fall  of  mighty  Rome.  My  object  now  is  to 
describe  briefly  some  of  the  ruins  in  the  old  city  —  the 
Rome  of  the  past. 

I  begin  with  the  Coliseum,  the  grandest  monument 
of  ancient  Rome,  which  was  built  in  the  first  century, 
for  gladiatorial  purposes.  At  its  dedication  by  Titus, 
thousands  of  beasts  were  sacrificed,  and  for  ages  the 
arena  streamed  with  human  blood.     Like  other  amphi- 


356  EUROPA. 

theaters,  it  is  oval  in  form,  surrounded  by  walls,  four 
stories  high,  supported  by  huge  columns,  and  forming 
splendid  chambers  and  galleries,  which  have  noAV  fallen 
into  decay.  The  whole  structure  covers  six  acres  of 
ground,  and  the  outer  walls  rise  to  the  hight  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty-eight  feet,  and  would  contain  nearly 
ninety  thousand  persons  as  spectators,  leaving  an  im- 
mense arena  for  the  cruel  combat.  A  part  of  the  walls 
have  been  thrown  down,  and  the  building  has  been 
robbed  of  its  decorations,  to  increase  the  glory  of  the 
new  city.  Though  crumbling  to  pieces,  it  speaks  of  its 
former  beauty  and  grandeur,  and  tells  its  horrid  tales 
of  assassination,  cruelty,  and  blood  from  every  fallen 
pillar  and  every  broken  arch.  As  I  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  arena,  beside  a  rude  Avooden  cross,  which  has 
been  erected  by  Papal  priests,  and  which  if  any  one 
shall  kiss,  an  indulgence  of  two  hundred  days  is  grant- 
ed to  him,  I  seemed  to  see  the  flitting  shadows  of  the 
early  Christians  who  wrestled  here  with  wild  beasts, 
and  fell  martyrs  to  the  rage  of  pagan  idolatry.  Here 
suffered,  in  this  way,  the  illustrious  Ignatius,  the  ven- 
erable Bishop  of  Antioch,  who  loved,  and  was  familiar 
with,  the  apostles.  Hated  for  his  sublime  faith,  he  was 
torn  from  his  faithful  church,  and  escorted  to  Rome. 
To  his  brethren  he  sent,  from  the  very  jaws  of  death, 
a  comforting  message.  "  Let  fire  and  the  cross,"  he 
wrote,  "  let  companies  of  wild  beasts,  let  breaking  of 
bones  and  tearing  of  members,  let  the  shattering  in 
pieces  of  the  whole  body,  and  all  the  wicked  torments 
of  the  devil  come  upon  me,  only  let  me  enjoy  Jesus 
Christ.  All  the  ends  of  the  world,  and  the  kingdoms 
of  it,  will  profit  me  nothing.  I  would  rather  die  for 
Jesus  Christ  than  rule  to  the  utmost  ends  of  the  earth. 
Him  I  seek  who  died  for  us.     This  is  the  gain  that  is 


THE   ROME   OF   THE   CiESARS.  357 

laid  up  for  us.  My  love  is  crucified."  He  was  con- 
demned to  die  by  the  beasts,  and,  calm  and  saintlike, 
was  led  into  the  arena.  He  looked  upon  the  gathered 
thousands  without  resentment,  and  upon  the  ferocious 
beasts  without  fear.  With  an  eye  upturned  to  heaven, 
he  advanced  towards  the  lion,  who  sprang  upon  him  ; 
and  soon  his  course  was  ended.  Two  of  his  deacons, 
who  had  followed  him  with  tears  from  Antioch  to 
Rome,  gathered  up  his  bones,  and  carried  them  away, 
and  laid  them  down  at  the  feet  of  the  saints.  Other 
noble  and  devoted  men  have  suffered  in  this  broad 
arena,  and  here  sealed  their  devotion  to  Christ  with 
their  own  blood ;  and  now  it  stands  crumbling  to 
pieces,  the  wonder  of  the  world.  As  you  enter  it,  and 
stand  amid  its  broken  ruins,  the  oft-repeated  prophecy 
will  be  remembered, — 

"  While  stands  the  Coliseum,  Rome  shall  stand  ; 
When  falls  the  Coliseum,  Rome  shall  fall ; 
And  when  Rome  falls,  the  world." 

This  vast  pile,  in  its  decaying  grandeur,  is  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  present  condition  of  Eome ;  and  one  half 
of  the  prediction  has  been  more  than  verified,  and  the 
decay  of  Rome  has  more  than  kept  pace  with  the 
demolition  of  the  Coliseum.  The  old  gladiators  are 
gone,  and  this,  their  battle  field,  still  remains  in  the 
hands  of  Papal  priests,  one  of  whom  preaches  every 
Friday  on  the  spot  where  once  his  brethren  were 
thrown  to  the  devouring  beasts.  His  rude  pulpit 
stands,  and  around  it,  once  a  week,  the  people  gather 
to  hear  the  word  of  God  where  once  howled  and  raged 
the  inhuman  conflict.  I  wished  to  visit  the  Coliseum 
in  the  night,  but  did  not.  The  words  of  Byron  haunt- 
ed me ;  and  oft  repeating  them,  I  longed  to  obtain  the 
same  view  which  enabled  him  to  give,  it  is  said  by 


358  EUEOPA. 

some,  the  most   correct   and  just  description  of  this 
ancient  pile  ever  written. 

"  I  do  remember  me  that,  in  my  youth, 
When  I  was  wandering,  upon  such  a  night, 
I  stood  within  the  Coliseum's  wall, 
'Midst  the  chief  relics  of  almighty  Rome. 
The  trees  which  grew  along  the  broken  arches 
Waved  dark  in  the  blue  midnight,  and  the  stars 
Shone  through  the  rents  of  ruin  ;  from  afar 
The  watch  dog  bayed  beyond  the  Tiber,  and, 
More  near,  from  out  the  Caesars'  palace  came 
The  owl's  long  cry,  and,  interruptedly, 
Of  distant  sentinels  the  fitful  song 
Began  and  died  upon  the  gentle  wind. 
Some  cypresses  beyond  the  time-worn  breach 
Appeared  to  skirt  the  horizon  ;  yet  they  stood 
Within  a  bow  shot  where  the  Cajsars  dwelt ; 
And  dwell  the  tuneless  birds  of  night  amidst 
A  grove  which  springs  through  leveled  battlements. 
And  twines  its  roots  with  the  imperial  hearths. 
Ivy  usurps  the  laurel's  place  of  growth  ; 
But  the  gladiator's  bloody  circus  stands, 
A  noble  wreck  in  ruinous  perfection ; 
While  Csesar's  chambers  and  the  Augustan  halls 
Grovel  on  earth,  in  indistinct  decay. 
And  thou  didst  shine,  thou  rolling  moon,  upon 
All  this,  and  cast  a  wide  and  tender  light. 
Which  softened  down  the  hoar  austerity 
Of  rugged  desolation,  and  filled  up. 
As  'twere  aaew,  the  gaps  of  centuries ; 
Leaving  that  beautiful  which  still  Avas  so, 
And  making  that  which  was  not,  till  the  place 
Became  religion,  and  the  heart  ran  o'er 
With  silent  worship  of  the  great  of  old  — 
The  dead,  but  sceptered  sovereigns,  who  still  rule 
Our  spirits  from  their  urns." 

From  the  Coliseum  we  turn  to  the  Circus  ruins,  of 
which  there  are  several,  still  showing  that  performances 
were  held  in  them  which  had  a  charm  for  the  j)eople 


THE   ROME   OF   THE   CiESARS.  359 

of  Rome.  They  are  now  divested  of  all  their  elegance, 
and  some  of  them  are  only  rude  mounds,  where  the 
dust  of  ages  has  been  collecting.  The  Circus  Maxi- 
mus,  which  lies  in  a  hollow  between  two  of  the  hills 
on  which  Rome  was  built,  was  of  extraordinary  beauty 
and  elegance,  twenty-one  hundred  and  eighty-seven  feet 
long,  nine  hundred  and  sixty  feet  broad,  and  capable  of 
seating  two  hundred  thousand  persons.  It  was  used 
for  chariot  races,  and  the  various  other  performances  of 
the  Circus.  The  immense  assemblies  which  gathered 
here  and  in  similar  places,  rising  rank  above  rank,  gave 
Paul  the  idea  which  led  him  to  exclaim,  "  We  are  com- 
passed about  with  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses ! " 

The  Circus  of  Maxentius,  more  perfect  than  the  one 
just  referred  to,  was  also  a  noble  structure,  and  its 
ruins  are  the  study  of  the  present  age.  There  still 
remain  the  entrances,  the  apartments  for  the  chariots, 
the  seats  for  the  nobility,  and  even  the  balcony  of  the 
emperor.  Near  by  is  the  Temple  of  Romulus,  the 
whole  group  forming  a  most  interesting  object  of  study 
and  contemplation.  There  are  also  other  structures  of 
the  same  kind,  more  or  less  decayed,  showing  that  the 
Romans,  in  their  palmy  days,  were  fond  of  feats  of 
agility  and  strength  ;  and  well  if,  in  our  age,  the  circus 
was  confined  to  these  healthy  and  reasonable  amuse- 
ments. They  could  be  encouraged  and  patronized 
without  danger.  But  whoever  seeks  this  kind  of  di- 
version now,  instead  of  witnessing  the  manly  and  hon- 
orable competition  of  the  charioteers  or  flying  horse- 
men, accompanied  with  patriotic  speeches  and  songs, 
will  have  his  eyes  saluted  with  disgusting  sights,  and 
his  ears  poisoned  with  low  and  disgusting  sounds,  from 
which  a  Roman  would  have  turned  away  with  a  blush 
of  shame.     The  Circus  of  the  first  century  was  more 


360  EUROPA. 

reasonable  and  virtuous  than  its  filthy  namesake  of  our 
own  age. 

The  old  Palace  of  the  Caesars  is  on  the  Palatine  Hill 
—  a  monstrous  mass  of  ruins,  through  which,  as  one 
walks,  he  sees  the  lizard  creeping  across  the  pavement 
where  once  Augustus,  Tiberius,  Nero,  and  Titus  trod, 
and  where,  for  centuries,  imperial  power  held  its  sway 
and  kept  its  throne.  These  ruins  seem  only  to  tell  of 
past  greatness  and  perished  glory.  Enlarged  and  beau- 
tified by  numerous  emperors,  it  became  one  of  the 
largest  palaces  in  the  world,  stretching  off  in  one  direc- 
tion towards  the  Capitol,  and  in  another  towards  the 
Coliseum,  until  its  ruins  show  that  a  small  city  could 
have  been  built  within  its  walls.  Gardens  and  vine- 
yards flourish  over  the  broken  piles  and  the  ruins  of 
fallen  arches,  and  the  feet  of  strangers  wander  where 
once  royalty  lived  and  flourished.  The  outlines  of  this 
overgrown  structure  are  now  very  indistinct,  and  can 
hardly  be  traced  out.  The  hand  of  Time  is  rapidly 
effacing  them,  and  the  bounds  set  by  Nero  and  Caligula 
to  their  royal  residences  soon  no  traveler  will  be  able 
to  find. 

The  Golden  House  of  Nero  still  lingers  to  tell  of 
the  extravagance  and  ambition  of  its  founder,  and  a 
visit  to  it  furnishes  a  good  lesson  to  any  one  who  is 
willing  to  learn.  In  these  halls,  now  lonely  and  desert- 
ed, the  monster  lived  and  reveled  in  his  iniquity ;  and 
the  very  walls  seem  to  cry  out  against  his  crimes.  His 
name  is  associated  with  all  that  is  brutal  and  depraved 
in  man.  At  the  early  age  of  seventeen,  he  poisoned 
his  friend,^  and  then,  to  accomplish  his  ambitious  pur- 
pose, murdered  his  mother.^     His  instructors  ^  he  also 

'  Britannicus.  '  Agrippina.  '  Seneca  and  Lucan. 


THE  KOME   OF   THE   C^SARS.  361 

barbarously  murdered,  to  gratify  his  revengeful  spirit. 
His  wife  ^  was  divorced  by  him  for  natural  causes,  in 
which  she  was  entirely  guiltless,  and  shut  up  on  the 
Island  of  Pandaleria,  where  he  visited  her,  and  com- 
pelled her  to  open  her  veins  and  let  out  her  blood. 
Another  of  his  wives  ~  he  also  killed,  to  rid  himself  of 
her  reproofs,  given  fearlessly,  on  account  of  his  many 
barbarities.  To  gratify  a  wanton  caprice,  he  set  fire  to 
his  own  capital,  and  laid  the  blame  at  the  door  of  per- 
secuted Christians,  and  caused  them  to  be  slain  by 
thousands.  Conceited  as  he  was  cruel,  he  went  to  the 
stage  as  an  actor,  made  some  attempts  at  the  composi- 
tion of  music,  and  died,  the  object  of  contempt  and 
abhorrence,  a  self-murderer,  he  having  committed  sui- 
cide, to  escape  the  vengeance  of  his  indignant  people. 
And  here  stands  his  Golden  House,  shorn  of  its  beauty, 
but  not  of  its  impressive  eloquence,  and  its  lofty  power 
to  curse  the  memory  of  its  insatiate  founder. 

Out  a  little  distance  from  Rome,  on  the  Appian 
Way,  is  the  Grotto  of  Egeria,  to  which  the  emperors 
and  senators  of  Rome,  weary  with  the  cares  of  state, 
loved  to  resort,  to  drink  the  waters  of  the  celebrated 
fountain,  and  enjoy  the  society  of  wanton  women. 
Here,  says  tradition,  came  Numa  to  consult  the 
nymphs,  and  here  he  paid  his  devotion  to  the  God 
of  Water,  whose  recumbent  form,  broken  and  wasted, 
still  remains.  The  grotto  is  a  rude  room  in  the  side  of 
the  rock.  The  walls  were  once  frescoed,  and  give  some 
evidences  of  former  beauty.  Moss  and  evergreen  cover 
the  marble  pavements  and  hang  from  the  ceiling.  The 
fountain,  God's  work,  still  gushes  up  as  bright  and 
sparkling  as  ever,  while  man's  work  has  gone  to  ruin 
and  decay. 

'  Octavia  '  Poppsea  Sabina. 

46 


362  EUROPA. 

Near  by  is  the  Temple  of  Bacchus.  Converted  from 
its  pagan  use,  it  is  adorned  with  the  fixtures  of  a  Cath- 
olic church.  There  still  remain  about  it  the  evidences 
of  its  former  devotion  to  debauchery  and  crime.  Retired 
from  the  highway,  the  old  pleasure  seekers  came  hither 
to  enjoy  a  season  of  dissipation  in  the  temple  of  the 
divinity  who  was  supposed  to  look  with  pleasure  upon 
their  excesses.  The  building  is  rectangular,  surrounded 
by  marble  columns  ;  and  Pope  Urban,  who  converted  it 
into  a  Catholic  temple,  spoiled  half  its  beauty  when  he 
gave  it  to  a  religion  as  senseless  and  abhorrent  as  pa- 
ganism itself  All  around  Kome  are  the  temples  of  the 
old  heathen  worshipers,  dedicated  to  the  various  gods 
of  mythology.  On  the  "  Ship  of  the  Tiber,"  an  island 
in  the  river  which  derives  its  name  from  its  form,  iEs- 
culapius  has  his  altar,  around  which  tradition  has  hung 
a  hundred  fancies ;  the  Temple  of  Nerva,  between  the 
Eoman  Forum  and  Trajan's  Place,  has  left  its  ruins ; 
temples  to  Venus  and  Vesta,  Jupiter  and  Saturn,  Remus 
and  Romulus,  the  sun  and  the  moon  —  some  in  a  toler- 
able state  of  preservation,  and  some  leaving  scarcely  a 
trace  behind  ;  some  standing  alone,  isolated  and  dismal, 
others  crowded  in  between  modern  structures,  overbuilt, 
and  fitted  for  the  Papal  worship,  —  meet  the  stranger 
on  every  hand,  and  speak  to  him  of  the  buried  genera- 
tions who  erected,  embellished,  and  enjoyed  them. 

Several  noble  arches  still  stand,  forming  gateways 
for  the  city,  or  commemorating  some  splendid  victories 
achieved  by  heroes  long  ago.  They  were  the  pride  of 
ancient  Rome,  and  draw  to  modern  Rome  a  multitude 
of  strangers.  The  Arch  of  Drusus,  out  on  the  Appian 
Way,  was  first  erected,  and  has  stood  so  long,  that  the 
inscriptions  which  once  the  Romans  read  upon  it  old 
father  Time  has  obliterated.    The  Arch  of  Constantine, 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  CyESARS.  363 

built  by  Trajan,  and  recast  by  him  whose  name  it  now 
bears,  is  covered  with  elegant  sculpture,  representing 
scenes  in  the  history  of  the  empire,  and  must  have 
been  erected  at  an  immense  expense.  The  Arch  of 
Septimius  Severus,  erected  by  bankers  and  brokers  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  one  who  in  the  councils  of 
their  nation  befriended  their  interests,  a  structure  mas- 
sive in  its  appearance  and  bold  in  its  design,  stands  in 
the  Velabrum.  The  Arch  of  Titus,  commemorating  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  the  emperor,  and  erected 
by  the  senate  as  a  token  of  their  respect  to  his  bravery, 
is  covered  with  bass-reliefs  representing  the  overthrow 
of  the  holy  city,  and  the  return  of  Titus  laden  with 
the  spoils  of  conquest.  Of  all  the  triumphal  arches 
this  is  the  most  magnificent,  and  appeals  most  directly 
to  the  heart  of  the  Christian,  as  it  furnishes  him  with 
an  eloquent  witness  to  the  truth  of  prophecy.  Other 
arches  rise  in  beautiful  order,  as  the  still  standing  mon- 
uments of  the  greatness  of  the  now  dead  and  perished 
emperors. 

The  baths  of  Rome  furnish  an  idea  of  the  immense 
wealth  and  prodigality  of  the  old  Eoman  inonarchs. 
Those  of  Caracalla  cover  an  area  of  a  mile  in  circuit, 
and  the  ruins  which  remain  are  still  grand  and  beauti- 
ful. The  fine  mosaic  floors,  on  which  are  piled  the 
fallen  pillars ;  the  exquisite  carvings,  broken  pieces  of 
which  are  scattered  about,  speak  volumes  as  to  the 
former  glory  of  the  place.  Any  description  of  the 
ruins  would  not  equal  the  reality,  or  give  an  idea  of 
their  vastness  and  beauty ;  and  as  we  stand  beneath  the 
arches,  or  tread  the  marble  pavements,  we  can  hardly 
resist  the  conviction  that  these  immense  walls  and 
towers  were  erected  by  a  race  having  greater  resources 
than  our  own. 


364  EUROPA. 

The  baths  of  Diocletian,  of  Agrippa,  of  Constantine, 
of  Titus,  are  but  little  inferior  to  those  of  Caracalla. 
After  the  lapse  of  centuries,  they  attest  the  glory  of  the 
race  of  sovereigns  by  whom  they  were  built,  and  are 
grand  and  glorious  even  in  their  decay. 

The  best  preserved  building  which  may  be  said  to 
belong  to  the  Rome  of  the  past  is  the  Pantheon,  which 
was  erected  twenty-six  years  before  Christ,  by  Agrippa. 
It  is  situated  in  the  herb  market,  and  is  one  of  the 
finest  proportioned  and  most  elegant  buildings,  as  far  as 
architectural  taste  extends,  in  the  world.  The  orna- 
ments and  statues  which  are  found  in  St.  Peter's  are 
not  here,  but  a  grand  design  and  a  noble  execution 
speak  out  from  these  walls,  which  have  stood  the  shock 
of  centuries  unmoved.  It  was  originally  a  pagan  tem- 
ple, as  some  suppose,  and  was  dedicated  to  Christian 
worship  by  Pope  Boniface  IV.  When  we  entered  it, 
one  afternoon,  a  service  was  in  progress.  Thirty-four 
priests,  gorgeously  dressed,  were  making  the  walls  echo 
with  their  chants  and  songs.  One  miserable-looking 
woman  was  kneeling  in  the  center  of  the  building, 
with  a  child  crawling  at  her  feet,  and  about  a  dozen  . 
other  filthy-looking  Italians  w^ere  scattered  in  various 
parts  of  the  room,  on  little  benches  which  were  set 
against  the  w^alls.  The  woman  clapped  her  hands  and 
responded  ;  the  priests  sung  and  prayed  as  valiantly  as 
if  fifty  thousand  were  present,  while  the  rest  looked  on 
with  the  most  perfect  indifierence.  The  Pantheon  is  a 
rotunda,  with  a  fine  dome,  having  a  portico,  said  to  be 
the  most  perfect  ever  known.  The  building  was  origi- 
nally profusely  ornamented,  but  the  adornments  have 
been  removed  to  decorate  the  tombs  of  apostles  and 
popes,  and  to  beautify  the  palaces  of  the  present  de- 
generate race  of  Romans. 


THE   ROME  OF   THE   C^SARS.  365 

What  most  interested  me  here  was  the  tomb  of 
Raphael,  the  celebrated  painter.  His  bones  slumber 
beneath  a  dome  Avhich  his  genius  assisted  to  decorate, 
and  ever}^  man  of  science  who  enters  the  edifice  will 
inquire  for  the  spot  where  they  repose,  guarded  by- 
monks,  but  inherited  by  decay.  Around  him  slumber 
many  of  his  fellow-artists,  who  have  acted  their  part, 
and  sought  the  oblivion  of  the  grave. 

The  famous  Mamertine  prisons  are  objects  of  great 
interest.  They  are  beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
directly  under  the  Church  of  St.  Giuseppe,  and  consist 
of  two  large  chambers,  one  directly  under  the  other. 
A  flight  of  some  thirty  steps  leads  us  to  the  first  cham- 
ber, which  is  about  thirty  feet  square.  The  chamber 
below  is  somewhat  smaller.  Into  this  lower  room  the 
prisoners  were  formerly  lowered  through  a  hall  in  the 
ceiling,  and  allowed  to  perish  most  miserably.  The 
light  of  the  sun  never  penetrates  that  dark  abode  ;  the 
walls  drop  filth,  and  the  floor  is  thick  with  a  black, 
dirty  mud.  In  this  awful  prison  Jugurtha  was  starved 
to  death,  living  six  days  without  food.  A  base  usurper 
and  a  bloody  tyrant,  he  expiated  his  many  crimes  in 
this  place,  his  army  of  ninety  thousand  men  having 
been  slaughtered  around  him  by  the  Romans.  Here, 
too,  Sejanus,  the  follower  and  friend  of  Tiberius,  was 
executed.  Crafty  and  ambitious,  he  used  every  means 
to  remove  all  obstacles  to  his  progress  in  the  favor  of 
his  royal  master.  He  even  imprisoned  the  son  and 
many  of  the  nearest  relations  of  the  emperor,  wno 
finally  became  suspicious  of  him,  and  brought  him 
before  the  senate,  which  convicted  him.  He  was  hur- 
ried away  to  the  Mamertine  prisons,  and  strangled 
without  mercy.  Here,  also,  we  were  told  by  our  valet 
that  Peter  was  confined  by  order  of   Nero.     In  the 

EE* 


366  EUROPA. 

passag3  leading  down  is  an  indentation  in  the  wall, 
resembling  one  side  of  a  human  head  and  face.  This, 
we  were  informed,  was  an  indentation  made  by  the  head 
of  Peter  as  he  went  down  into  the  dungeon,  being 
pushed  violently  by  the  jailers.  In  the  middle  of  the 
lower  chamber  is  a  pillar,  to  which  the  apostle  is  said 
to  have  been  chained;  and  also  a  fountain  of  cold, 
delicious  water,  which  is  said  to  have  been  produced 
by  miracle.  The  story  is,  that  Martinian  and  Processus 
were  led  by  the  correctness  of  Peter's  life,  and  the  ear- 
nestness of  his  exhortations,  to  believe  on  Jesus.  They 
became  disciples  of  the  Nazarene,  and  yielded  their 
hearts  to  the  new  faith.  One  day,  being  in  the  dun- 
geon conversing  with  the  prisoner,  whom  they  dared 
not  release,  they  requested  baptism  at  his  hands. 
"  There  is  no  water,"  he  replied  ;  "  and  how  can  I  do  it 
without  water]  "  "  You  can  pray  for  it,  and  God  Avill 
send  it  to  you,"  they  answered.  The  apostle  fell  on 
his  knees,  commended  the  converts  to  the  grace  of  God, 
and  prayed  that  he  would  furnish  water  for  the  baptis- 
mal ser\dce.  When  he  arose,  a  fountain  sweet  and 
pure  gushed  up  from  the  very  spot  which  had  been 
pressed  by  his  knees,  and  they  received  the  initiatory 
rite  into  the  Christian  church.  This  may  all  have 
been  so,  but  we  took  the  liberty  to  doubt  it,  admitting 
at  the  same  time  that  the  water  was  the  best  we  ever 
tasted. 

From  these  prisons,  a  passage  leads  into  the  dark 
catacombs  of  Rome.  I  wished  to  enter,  and  having 
done  so,  my  friends  closed  the  door;  and  though  I 
knew  I  should  soon  be  liberated,  there  came  over  my 
mind  the  most  mournful  feeling  which  I  had  experi- 
enced for  years.  A  damp,  cold  chill  sent  a  shiver 
through  my  frame,  and  as  I  groped  about  a  moment 


THE   ROME   OF   THE   C^SARS.  367 

in  the  dismal  darkness,  a  crowd  of  thoughts  rushed 
upon  me,  such  as  I  have  seldom  known.  I  seemed  to 
have  stepped  down  into  the  vestibule  of  death,  and  lost 
my  connection  with  living  men,  and  the  mind  rushed 
along  the  dark  passage ;  and  when  the  door  opened, 
and  I  stepped  out  again  into  the  prison  and  the  torch- 
light, my  spirit  seemed  to  have  lingered  with  the  bones 
of  martyrs  in  the  mighty  catacombs.  Leaving  the 
dungeon,  we  noticed  a  bass-relief  representing  Peter 
pouring  water  upon  the  head  of  the  jailers,  as  they 
kneel  before  him.  But,  however  much  we  may  believe 
of  these  traditions,  we  know  that  Peter  and  Paul  too 
were  confined  in  these  prisons  —  the  former  for  the 
space  of  nine  months,  after  which  time  he  was  taken 
out  and  crucified  with  his  head  do-\vnward.  The  spot 
on  which  the  Vatican  now  stands  is  supposed  to  have 
been  the  scene  of  his  awful  martyrdom. 

Not  far  from  these  prisons  is  the  "  Tarpeian  Rock," 
or  "  Traitor's  Leap,"  down  which  those  persons  con- 
demned for  treason  were  obliged  to  cast  themselves. 
This  rock  derives  its  name  from  Tarpeia,  the  daughter 
of  a  Roman  magistrate,  who  betrayed  Pome,  and,  for 
gold,  opened  the  gates  of  the  city  to  the  Sabines. 
They  entered,  and,  instead  of  redeeming  their  pledges, 
they  cast  their  shields  upon  her  in  derision,  until  she 
died  beneath  the  weight.  She  was  buried  near  the 
place,  and  the  rock  took  her  name.  It  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  high,  rough,  abrupt  precipice,  on  the 
southern  side  of  the  Capitoline  Hill,  some  seventy  or 
eighty  feet  in  hight.  Condemned  criminals  were 
brought  here,  and  cast  down  upon  the  rocks  below; 
and,  though  this  custom  has  expired,  the  "  Traitor's 
Leap  "  is  pointed  out  as  one  of  the  spots  known  and 
familiarized  by  its  connection  with  the  death  of  many 
a  convicted  felon. 


368  EUROPA. 

I  would  not  close  this  brief  and  imperfect  account  of 
the  ruins  of  ancient  Rome  without  a  reference  to  the 
tombs  of  the  now  perished  nobility  of  other  days.  And 
first  we  went  to  the  tomb  of  the  Scipios,  out  on  the  Ap- 
pian  Way  —  several  subterranean  chambers,  over  which 
waves  a  solitary  cypress  tree.  We  knocked  loudly  at 
a  rough  gate,  which  was  opened  by  a  gypsy  girl,  with 
a  straw  hat  and  a  loose  dress,  none  too  long,  —  a  per- 
fect Bloomer,  —  who  threw  back  the  tresses  of  her 
flowing  hair,  which  fell  loosely  upon  her  shoulders,  and 
gave  us  candles,  and  ran  singing  along  before  us  into 
the  tomb  of  perished  greatness.  We  groped  our  way 
along  the  hollow  chambers,  deciphering,  as  best  we 
could,  the  inscriptions  which  identify  the  place,  to  the 
very  spot  where  once  the  ashes  of  Scipio  Barbatus, 
now  scattered  and  lost,  reposed  in  death.  The  very 
graves  of  the  illustrious  family  have  been  robbed  by 
the  popes,  to  fill  up  the  Vatican,  and  a  gypsy  woman 
and  her  daughter  occupy  the  tomb  itself  Time,  the 
leveler  of  all  things,  the  destroyer  of  man  and  his  work, 
has  been  here,  and  with  his  breath  scattered  the  dust 
of  men  who  once  lived  in  honor,  but  whose  names  are 
now  almost  unknown,  and  over  whose  sepulchers  not  a 
tear  is  shed  by  sage  or  poet. 

The  tomb  of  Caius  Cestius,  remarkable  as  being  a 
pyramid,  was  to  me  an  object  of  some  interest.  As  the 
only  pyramid  I  had  ever  seen,  it  claimed  my  attention, 
and  was,  perhaps,  more  observed  on  this  account  than 
from  the  fact  that  it  towers  over  the  remains  of  a  trib- 
une of  the  Eoman  people.  It  is  built  of  tufa  and 
brick,  and  is  covered  with  marble  slabs  or  blocks.  It 
is  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  high,  and  at  the  base  is 
one  hundred  feet  square.  It  contains  but  little  room 
within,  the  walls  being  nearly  twenty-five  feet   thick. 


THE   ROME   OF   THE    CyESARS.  369 

And  yet  I  presume  the  dead  care  not  what  tomb  en- 
closes, or  what  monument  rises  over  them.  I  presume 
that  death  is  not  sweetened  by  the  reflection  that  a 
marble  pyramid  will  rise  over  the  stricken  body,  and 
ages  will  come  to  weep  beside  it.  Here  is  a  point  at 
which  ambition,  pride,  and  honor  die,  and  man  is  in  all 
his  weakness  and  his  want. 

I  might  take  you  to  the  tomb  of  Augustus,  which 
has  been  used  as  a  fortress,  a  theater,  a  temple,  and  a 
tower ;  to  that  of  Bibulus,  which,  for  nearly  two  thou- 
sand years,  has  been  adorned  and  assailed  in  turn ; 
to  the  Columbarium,  where  the  dust  of  freemen  and 
slaves  mingles  in  a  common  urn,  and  the  ashes  of  the 
humble  and  the  proud  alike  await  the  shock  of  the  last 
great  day. 

While  viewing  the  remains  of  ancient  Rome,  the 
mind  is  irresistibly  carried  back  to  the  times  of  the 
Csesars,  when  the  city  was  in  its  glory  and  prime,  and 
when  these  ruins  were  fair  and  elegant  buildings,  excit- 
ing the  envy  and  admiration  of  all  nations.  One  can- 
not help  contrasting  the  Rome  of  the  past  and  the 
present ;  and  as  a  view  of  the  ancient  magnificence  of 
the  empire  rises  before  him,  he  feels  a  greater  contempt 
for  the  weak  and  inefficient  rule  which  has  destroyed 
the  beauty  and  corrupted  the  purity  of  the  capital  of 
the  world.  His  soul  rises  against  the  prince  who  wears 
upon  his  head  a  triple  crown,  but  whose  heart  beats  not 
in  sympathy  with  man. 

But  you  have  heard  enough  of  this  —  enough  of 
circus,  forum,  column,  and  temple ;  and  we  turn  from 
them  to  another  view  of  Rome,  which  we  shall  find 
more  amusing,  if  not  more  interesting. 
47 


370  EUROPA. 


XXIX. 

ANTIQUITIES  —  RELICS. 

There  is  a  class  of  objects  which.  I  scarcely  know 
whether  to  call  antiquities  or  not.  They  claim  an  age 
which  carries  them  back  to  the  time  of  Christ,  but  have 
an  appearance  suspiciously  modern ;  hence  I  give  them 
a  place  by  themselves,  between  the  Rome  of  the  Caesars 
and  the  Rome  of  the  popes.  Rome  abounds  with  relics ; 
and  some  of  them  are  so  curious,  that  a  description  of 
them  may  not  be  uninteresting.  Connected  with  St. 
John  Lateran,  a  church  which  will  be  referred  to  here- 
after, is  the  famous  Scala  Santa,  or  Holy  Staircase,  said 
to  be  the  identical  stairs  over  which  Christ  descended 
into  the  judgment  hall  of  Pilate.  Whether  the  iden- 
tity of  this  relic  can  be  proved  is  a  question.  Proof 
does  exist  to  show  that  the  house  was  taken  down  and 
removed  to  Rome,  and  this  spacious  staircase  would 
compare  very  well  with  what  we  may  suppose  Pilate's 
hall  to  have  been  in  other  respects.  But,  while  the 
identity  of  the  stairs  is  very  apocryphal,  the  use  to 
which  they  are  put  is  very  plain.  These  stairs  now 
lead  to  a  little  Gothic  chapel  at  the  top,  while  another 
parallel  staircase,  separated  by  a  wall,  runs  up  on  each 
side.  There  are  twenty-eight  of  the  holy  steps,  and 
pilgrims  ascend  them  on  their  knees.  The  number 
who  make  the  ascent  is  so  great,  that,  a  few  years  ago, 
it  was  found  necessary  to  cover  them  with  plank,  lest 
the  marble  should  be  entirely  worn  away.     One  of  our 


ANTIQUITIES  — RELICS.  371 

company,  for  some  reason,  wished  to  climb  np,  pilgrim 
fashion,  uj)on  his  knees ;  and  at  it  he  went.  The  day 
was  warm,  and  our  friend  was  corpulent ;  but  he  went 
at  it  like  a  martyr  doing  penance,  nor  did  he  pause 
until  he  was  half  way  up,  and  only  then  to  examine 
the  stains  said  to  be  the  blood  of  our  Savior,  which  fell 
from  his  head  when  he  was  stopped  by  the  mob.  The 
rest  of  us  went  up  one  of  the  parallel  staircases,  and, 
arriving  at  the  top,  saw  our  devotional  friend  coming 
up  upon  his  knees.  We  received  him  with  shouts  of 
sacrilegious  laughter,  when  he,  having  purchased  an 
indulgence  for  forty  days,  began  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  forehead,  and  brushing  his  knees,  as  if  anxious 
to  shake  the  holy  dust  from  his  garments. 

It  was  while  ascending  on  his  knees  this  holy  stair- 
case that  Luther  received  a  deep  impression  as  to  the 
corruption  of  the  church  of  Rome.  Desirous  of  ob- 
taining the  precious  blessing  promised  to  those  who 
should  make  the  ascent,  he  commences.  One,  two, 
three,  four  steps  he  has  gained,  when  the  word  of  God 
came  thundering  in  his  ears  —  "  The  just  shall  live  by 
faith."  He  pauses,  thinks,  resolves,  and,  rising  proudly 
from  his  knees,  stalks  down  upon  his  feet,  and  rushes 
away.  The  work  is  done.  The  tie  which  bound  Lu- 
ther to  E-ome  is  broken  ;  he  is  free  ;  and  the  poor 
Saxon  monk  becomes  the  disturber  of  the  world. 

At  the  head  of  this  staircase  is  a  door,  on  the  side  of 
which  is  an  indentation  similar  to  that  in  the  Mamen- 
tine  prisons.  We  asked  what  it  meant,  and  were 
informed  that  it  was  the  door  through  which  Christ 
passed,  and  that  the  indentation  was  made  by  his  being 
violently  crowded  against  the  stone.  We  said  that,  if 
our  heads  should  be  knocked  against  such  a  door  post, 
the  indentation  would  be  in  the  heads,  and  not  on  the 
stones. 


372  EUROPA. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  your  heads  are  not  like 
that  of  Christ ;  "  to  which,  of  course,  we  assented. 

We  asked,  "  Where  did  you  get  the  fact  that  the 
indentation  was  thus  formed  1 " 

"  From  history." 

"What  history r' 

"  The  Bible." 

This  was  conclusive,  and  we  let  it  pass  without  ask- 
ing in  what  part  of  the  Bible  the  statement  might  be 
found,  concluding  that,  if  it  was  in  the  good  book  any 
where,  it  must  be  true. 

At  this  very  same  place,  we  were  shown  many  very 
wonderful  things,  such  as  the  table  on  which  was  eaten 
the  "  last  supper."  It  was  of  coarse  wood,  about  three 
feet  square ;  and,  from  the  nail  holes  in  it,  I  should 
judge  it  to  have  once  been  covered  with  cloth.  There, 
too,  is  the  mouth  of  the  well  at  which  Jesus  sat  with 
the  woman  of  Samaria  ;  the  column  of  the  temple 
which  was  split  asunder  when  the  veil  was  rent ;  the 
marble  slab  on  which  the  soldiers  cast  lots  for  the 
garments  of  Christ ;  and  various  other  objects  of  su- 
perstitious interest  and  regard. 

In  some  of  the  churches,  we  were  shown  pictures 
painted  by  Luke,  and  others  of  the  apostles  ;  and  from 
one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other  some  relic  is  preserved 
to  draw  attention,  and,  what  is  of  more  importance, 
money  —  the  cradle  in  which  the  Savior  was  rocked  by 
his  \drgin  mother ;  a  remarkable  stone,  on  which  are 
the  impressions  of  two  human  feet,  said  to  be  those  of 
Christ,  the  stone  being  one  on  which  he  stood  when  he 
met  Peter  once  in  Rome,  and  said  to  him,  "  Thou  art 
Peter,  and  on  this  rock  I  will  build  my  church ; "  a 
wooden  figure  of  the  infant  Savior,^  carved  by  a  friar, 

'  Called  the  Santissimo  Bambino,  or  Most  Holy  Baby. 


ANTIQUITIES  — RELICS.  373 

who,  having  finished  it,  lay  down  to  sleep.  While 
dreaming  of  paradise,  St.  Luke  came  and  painted  his 
little  image,  which  was  made  out  of  the  wood  of  a  tree 
found  growing  on  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Henceforth 
the  figure  became  possessed  of  miraculous  powers  to 
heal  diseases  ;  and  such  is  its  reputation  in  Rome,  that 
it  is  said  to  draw  a  larger  revenue  to  the  church  than 
is  received  from  the  contribution  of  the  j)eople.  These, 
and  many  others  as  absurd  and  improbable,  are  pre- 
sented to  the  traveler  as  the  veritable  relics.  Most  of 
them  wear  the  marks  of  absurdity  on  the  face  of  them. 
The  prints  of  the  Savior's  feet  on  the  stone  are  large 
enough  for  the  feet  of  a  giant,  and  the  cradle  in  which 
Christ  was  rocked  shows  unequivocal  marks  of  a  late 
date.  And  yet  the  blinded  and  degraded  people  do  not 
see  them  as  they  are.  The  priests  tell  them  that  this 
box  was  the  cradle  of  Christ,  that  that  picture  was 
painted  by  Luke,  that  yonder  image  has  the  miraculous 
power  of  healing  the  sick,  and  they  believe  it  all  with- 
out hesitation.  They  do  not  allow  reason  to  utter  her 
voice ;  they  stop  not  to  inquire  as  to  the  probability  or 
possibility  of  the  thing,  but  rest  their  souls  upon  the 
mere  tradition,  which  the  priest,  as  ignorant  as  them- 
selves, utters  in  their  hearing. 

And  then,  if  the  people  had  their  eyes  open,  they 
could  see  that  they  are  duped,  even  admitting  that  the 
relics  are  genuine.  The  use  which  is  made  of  them 
is  so  absurd,  the  homage  which  is  paid  them  is  so 
ridiculous,  that  no  reasonable  man  could  endure  it  a 
single  hour.  All  these  relics  are  contrived  as  means  to 
get  at  the  pockets  of  the  poor,  and  support  a  church  in 
wealth  and  honor,  while  masses  are  starving.  If  the 
cardinals  had  human  hearts,  if  they  had  not  dehuman- 
ized themselves  by  their  vows  and  vices,  they  w^ould  be 

FF 


374  EUKOPA. 

ashamed  of  themselves.  They  would  refuse  to  spend 
millions  in  the  adornment  of  the  churches,  while  the 
bodies  of  men,  the  temples  of  Deity,  are  pale  and  thin 
from  hunger  and  fasting.  They  cannot  fail  to  see  the 
universal  misery  and  degradation  of  the  people,  as  they 
ride  out  in  their  splendid  coaches  and  enter  their  im- 
mense cathedrals.  The  voice  of  distress  and  the  sound 
of  anguish  come  home  upon  every  blast,  but  they  shut 
their  eyes  and  refuse  to  see ;  they  close  their  ears  and 
refuse  to  hear. 

But  the  hour  of  disinthrallment  is  not  far  distant. 
The  tide  is  rising  higher  and  higher,  and  the  waves  of 
popular  clamor  are  beginning  to  dash  around  the 
thrones  on  which  these  tyrants  sit,  and  they  will  fall. 
The  day  cannot  be  far  distant.  The  knell  of  Rome  is 
now  being  tolled  by  the  great  bell  on  St.  Peter's,  and 
present  appearances  indicate  that  Pius  IX.  may  be  the 
last  pope  who  shall  walk  the  chambers  of  the  Vatican; 
or  if  not  the  last,  one  of  the  last. 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  *        375 


XXX. 

THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES. 

What  is  denominated  the  new  city  bears  faint  com- 
parison with  ancient  Rome  for  extent,  magnificence, 
and  wealth.  The  number  of  inhabitants  at  the  present 
time  is  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  or  less 
than  five  times  as  large  as  our  own  little  city.  Of  this 
limited  number,  some  fifty  or  sixty  are  cardinals,  twenty- 
three  are  bishops,  sixteen  hundred  and  thirty-nine  are 
priests,  twenty-six  hundred  and  twelve  are  monks, 
fifteen  hundred  and  fifty  are  nuns,  and  eight  thousand 
are  Jews,  who  live  in  a  quarter  of  the  city  approj)riated 
to  themselves.  The  government  is  a  delightfully  formed 
medley  of  religion  and  politics,  the  pope  being  alike  at 
the  head  of  church  and  state.  A  bench  of  bishops  sit 
where  once  the  senators  and  tribunes  delivered  their 
opinions  and  promulgated  their  laws,  and  every  where, 
from  the  door  of  St.  Peter's  out  to  the  Campagna,  are 
seen  the  consequences  of  ignorance,  misrule,  and  super- 
stition. 

The  streets  are  generally  narrow,  filthy,  and  unpleas- 
ant, and  the  people  bear  no  marks  of  their  former 
glory.  No  one  would  pay  a  large  sum  now,  or  risk  his 
life,  to  be  called  a  Roman ;  for  on  the  countenances  of 
the  poor,  degraded  masses  there  appears  nothing  but 
blind  devotion  to  oppression.  The  spirits  of  the  people 
have  been  crushed,  the  manhood  of  Rome  has  been 
destroyed,  and  we  look  in  vain  for  the  fine  traits  of 


376  EUROPA. 

character  which  once  clistmguished  that  noble  race. 
Had  an  American  city  the  wealth  of  Rome,  —  her 
noble  buildings,  her  rare  collections  of  antiquities,  her 
works  of  art,  her  classic  ruins,  and  her  rich  store  of 
memories,  —  it  would  become  a  very  paradise,  under 
the  free  and  enlightening  influences  of  our  institutions. 
But  a  pall  is  over  Rome ;  the  frown  of  Heaven  rests 
on  the  city  of  blood,  and  all  her  ancient  grandeur  and 
present  wealth  cannot  raise  her  above  the  curse.  Not 
much  can  be  expected  of  a  city,  however  wealthy, 
where  newspapers  are  suppressed,  and  the  press  is  under 
the  ban  of  an  unbounded  censorship ;  from  which  not 
a  single  railroad  goes  out,  north,  south,  east,  or  west ; 
where  freedom  of  commerce  is  not  enjoyed,  and  man  is 
an  ignorant  and  besotted  slave  to  a  tyranny  such  as  is 
knoAvn  nowhere  else  in  all  the  world.  Not  much  can 
be  expected  of  a  people  who  give  the  children's  bread 
to  support  an  indolent  and  licentious  priesthood ;  who 
rob  themselves  and  defraud  nature  to  decorate  the 
tombs  of  dead  ecclesiastics ;  who  bow  obsequiously  at 
the  foot  of  a  throne  which  they  know  is  red  with  blood 
and  black  with  crime.  St.  Peter's  Cathedral  loses  its 
grandeur  when  I  see  it  filled  with  a  starved  and  impov- 
erished people,  who  rise  from  their  knees  and  leave 
their  devotions  to  beg  a  penny  of  the  traveler  who 
wanders  up  the  sounding  aisle.  The  Vatican  has  no 
power  to  charm,  when  from  its  windows  I  look  out 
upon  a  swelling,  heaving,  surging  sea  of  wretchedness, 
which  the  streets  of  Rome  ever  present. 

But  we  will  forget  this  a  while,  and  wander  about 
among  the  objects  of  interest  which  here  abound.  The 
great  central  object  of  attraction  is  the  Cathedral  of 
St.  Peter's,  which  is  supposed  to  be  upon  or  near  the 
spot  where  the  apostle  for  whom  it  is  named  was  buried. 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  377 

It  was  at  first  an  insignificant  little  chapel,  which  had 
more  the  appearance  of  a  tomb  than  a  temple.  In  the 
time  of  Constantine,  this  little  structure  was  removed, 
and  a  fine  church  built  on  the  spot,  which  in  its  turn 
gave  place  to  the  magnificent  Cathedral.  Any  descrip- 
tion of  this  immense  building  would  fall  so  far  below 
the  reality,  that  I  will  not  attempt  it.  It  required  more 
than  three  centuries  to  complete  it ;  forty-three  popes 
gave  it  their  time  and  attention,  and  when  finished, 
seventy  millions  of  dollars  had  been  expended  upon  it. 
It  covers  between  five  and  six  acres,  (about  tAvo  hundred 
and  forty  thousand  square  feet,)  and  is  kept  in  repair  at 
an  expense  of  about  thirty  thousand  dollars  annually. 
The  best  idea  of  the  building  will  be  obtained  if  you 
imagine  an  immense  circular  area  enclosed  with  the 
finest  colonnade  in  the  w^orld,  the  front  open,  and  the 
rear  filled  up  by  the  Cathedral.  In  this  area  two  fine 
fountains  are  ever  playing,  and  between  them  a  column, 
surmounted  by  a  cross,  rises  to  the  hight  of  a  hundred 
feet.  The  colonnades  are  formed  by  two  hundred  and 
eighty-four  columns,  sixty  feet  high,  covered  with  spa- 
cious galleries.  These  form  a  magnificent  entrance  to 
the  church,  bending  around  the  visitor  as  he  advances, 
impressing  him  with  an  idea  of  strength  and  dignity. 
The  front  of  the  church  is  somewhat  marred  by  a 
fa9ade,  which  hides  the  proportions  of  the  building, 
and  but  poorly  compares  with  the  architectural  design 
of  the  monstrous  dome.  Passing  between  marble  fig- 
ures of  Peter  and  Paul,  we  enter  the  church,  and  pause, 
almost  overpowered  with  the  effect  produced.  The 
colossal  statues,  the  vaulted  roof,  the  spacious  aisles, 
the  hurrying  priests,  and  the  wonderful  dome,  all  pro- 
duce in  the  mind  a  feeling  of  awful  sublimity.  The  best 
idea  I  can  give  of  the  immense  size  will  be  conveyed 
48  FF  * 


378  EUROPA. 

to  you  by  the  simple  statement  that  twenty  such 
churches  as  our  own  could  be  placed,  steeples  and  all, 
within  the  walls  of  St.  Peter's,  and  the  area  would  not 
be  full.  Beneath  the  dome  the  monument  on  Bunker 
Hill  could  be  placed,  and  a  steeple  tall  as  ours  added  to 
that,  and  then  they  would  not  reach  the  dizzy  hight. 
The  hosts  of  Rome  cannot  fill  the  church ;  when  all 
turn  out  and  flock  by  thousands,  priests,  soldiers,  and 
people,  and  all  enter  the  temple,  thousands  more  might 
gather  there  with  ease.  The  form  of  the  structure  is 
that  of  a  Latin  cross,  and  in  the  center  stands  the  high 
altar,  beneath  the  dome,  and  over  the  ashes  of  St.  Peter. 
The  immense  size  of  the  church  does  not  appear  at  the 
first ;  it  requires  time  to  recover  from  the  surprise,  and 
you  must  survey  with  a  leisure  eye  the  wonderful  pro- 
j)ortions.  One  becomes  almost  angry  to  see  such  a 
hollow  performance  in  this  cathedral.  He  is  vexed  at 
the  improbable  stories  which  are  told  him.  He  feels 
that  they  are  out  of  place  in  the  magnificent  work  of 
art,  and  has  no  patience  with  the  guide  who  relji1;es 
them  as  Scripture  facts.  Here,  in  an  oratory,  is  kept  a 
napkin,  with  which  a  weeping  woman  wiped  the  tearful, 
bloody  face  of  Christ,  when  he  was  going  to  the  cross. 
On  this  piece  of  cloth  are  still  seen  the  stains  of  blood. 
During  the  holy  week  this  sudarium  is  shown  to  the 
gaping  people,  by  men  wiio  must  know  the  imposition 
they  are  practicing.  In  another  oratory  is  kept  a  piece 
of  the  true  cross.  A  wonderful  thing  that  "  true 
cross  "  must  have  been ;  for  the  true  church,  the  infal- 
lible church,  have  pieces  enough  of  it  laid  up  to  build 
a  ship ;  and  what  is  somewhat  curious,  it  is  one  kind 
of  wood  in  one  place,  and  another  sort  in  another 
place;  showing,  if  all  these  be  veritable  pieces  of  it, 
it  must  have  been  composed  of  some  dozen  trees.     But 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  379 

the  people  never  think  of  these  things.  The  priest  or 
the  pope  tells  them  so,  and  they  ask  no  questions,  cher- 
ish no  doubt,  express  no  unbelief.  In  another  place  is 
the  head  of  St.  Andrew,  or  a  skull  which  is  said  to  be 
his.  Some  few  years  ago,  this  relic  was  stolen,  and  the 
pope  went  into  mourning  on  its  account.  He  offered  a 
large  reward  for  its  recovery.  When  stolen,  it  was 
covered  up  with  jewelry  of  great  value.  The  thief 
took  off  the  jewels,  and  threw  the  worthless  skull 
away.  He  was  a  wiser  and  a  better  man,  perhaps,  than 
the  pope,  who  valued  the  skull  more  than  its  adorn- 
ments. It  was  found,  and  great  joy  manifested  at  its 
recovery.  Bells  were  rung ;  the  monks  of  the  neigh- 
boring convents  turned  out  in  solemn  procession ;  the 
cannon  of  old  St.  Angelo  thundered  over  the  Tiber; 
and  the  pope  gave  to  the  people  an  extra  benediction. 

Here,  too,  is  the  old  bronze  statue  of  Jupiter,  which 
has  been  christened  by  one  of  the  poj)es  ^  as  St.  Peter. 
He  is  sitting  in  a  chair,  Avith  one  of  his  feet  extended, 
the  toe  of  which  has  been  completely  kissed  away  by 
the  multitudes  who  visit  the  place.  One  of  our  little 
company,  anxious  "  to  do  as  the  Romans  do,"  as  far  as 
possible,  performed  the  voluntary  service  with  the  ut- 
most gravity,  while  another,  who  seemed  to  have  less 
reverence  for  the  heathen  god,  looked  at  the  feet  with 
the  comical  query,  "  I  wonder  if  St.  Peter  had  corns." 

The  most  noble  conception  of  the  Cathedral  is  ob- 
tained by  ascending  the  dome.  A  broad,  paved,  spiral 
staircase  leads  up  so  gradually,  that  most  of  the  dis- 
tance could  be  accomplished  on  the  back  of  a  donkey. 
The  summit  is  obtained  at  the  expense  of  weary  limbs. 
We  reach  the  galleries  within  the  dome,  and  look  down 

'  St.  Leo. 


380  EUROPA. 

upon  the  priests  and  worshipers  below,  who  all  seem 
like  children.  Still  higher,  it  becomes  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish them  as  human  beings.  From  the  outer  gal- 
lery, beneath  the  cross,  a  noble  view  is  gained  of  Rome, 
the  old  ruins  of  the  past,  and  the  broad  Campagna, 
stretching  away  in  the  clear  distance.  Looking  down 
in  front  of  the  church  appear  the  piazza,  the  fountains, 
and  the  obelisk ;  on  the  left  stand  the  Vatican  and  the 
pope's  palace  ;  on  the  right,  the  famous  Inquisition 
house ;  before  you  rises  old  St.  Angelo ;  along  flows 
the  Tiber,  on  its  banks  churches,  temples,  and  ruins. 
We  entered  the  ball,  where  we  might  have  stowed  away 
a  dozen  of  us  without  much  inconvenience. 

We  were  there  upon  the  20th  of  June,  which  is  cele- 
brated as  the  anniversary  of  the  pope's  coronation.  On 
this  day,  he  gives  to  all  poor  persons  who  come  to  the 
Vatican  a  half  Paul  (about  four  cents)  each,  for  the 
relief  of  their  wants.  Thousands  come  from  the  region 
round  about,  traveling  for  miles  to  gain  from  his  holi- 
ness this  pittance.  As  we  looked  down  from  the  dome, 
we  saw  the  poor  wretches  —  men,  women,  and  children 
—  crowding  into  the  Vatican  by  regiments.  We  in- 
quired if  the  pope  gave  the  money  with  his  own  hands, 
thinking,  if  he  did,  we  would  call  and  claim  his  charity, 
that  we  might  bring  home  the  piece  as  a  memento  of 
the  old  man.  We  were,  however,  informed  that  Pius 
IX.  never  did  such  dirty  work  as  giving  money  to  the 
poor  with  his  own  hands.  We  were,  however,  disposed 
to  thank  him  foj  giving  it  at  all.  This  little  piece  of 
money  is  given  for  every  child  or  member  of  the  fam- 
ily ;  and  many  mothers  we  saw  with  one,  two,  three,  or 
four  babies,  often  borrowed  for  the  occasion  —  good 
Catholics,  indeed,  but  ready  to  cheat  the  very  vicegerent 
of  God  himself 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  381 

During  the  annual  religious  festivals,  the  Cathedral 
is  illuminated  in  a  most  splendid  manner.  The  whole 
structure  is  so  lighted  at  night  as  to  show  the  propor- 
tions of  the  building,  with  each  pillar  and  projection, 
so  that  the  whole  appears  to  be  one  mass  of  fire,  blaz- 
ing out,  hour  after  hour,  with  great  architectural  pre- 
cision, a  palace  of  flame,  the  admiration  of  thousands 
who  have  traveled  far  to  gaze  upon  it.  This  grand  ex- 
hibition is  commenced  at  dusk,  by  the  lighting  of  about 
six  thousand  lanterns,  formed  of  white  paper,  so  as  to 
give  the  efiect  of  a  white  light.  This  is  called  the  Sil- 
ver Illumination  ;  and  while  it  continues,  the  building 
seems  to  be  one  sheet  of  silver,  glistening  in  some  su- 
pernatural light,  and  shining  on,  hour  after  hour,  with 
a  subduing  aspect.  At  nine,  the  Golden  Illumination 
commences,  when  about  one  thousand  more  lights, 
made  of  tar  and  other  inflammable  materials,  are  made 
to  flash  out  at  once,  changing  the  whole  appearance  of 
the  scene.  In  the  midst  of  this  flood  of  light,  the 
Cathedral  stands,  one  mass  of  fire,  yet  unconsumed. 
The  bright  light  reveals  every  column,  crevice,  window, 
and  door,  and  the  church  stands  like  a  mountain  of 
fire,  surmounted  by  a  cross  which  now  seems  lost  in 
the  clouds,  and  anon  stands  out  with  great  distinctness. 
All  night  it  burns  and  blazes  there,  while  none  in 
Rome  thinks  of  sleep.  The  scene  is  too  exciting ;  and, 
till  the  last  light  goes  out,  in  the  dim  gray  of  the 
morning,  the  Pincian  Hill  is  covered  with  a  dense 
mass  of  spectators.  More  than  three  hundred  lower 
themselves  upon  that  mighty  dome,  and  hang  there 
amid  the  fire,  periling  their  lives  for  the  generous  com- 
pensation which  they  receive.  This  grand  illumination 
we  were  not  fortunate  enough  to  see ;  but,  from  the 
description  of  it  given  by  Romans,  it  was  easy  to  im- 
agine its  grandeur. 


382  EUKOPA. 

From  St.  Peter's,  we  pass  to  a  rapid  description  of  a 
few  of  the  other  most  important  churches,  among  Avhich 
is  St.  John  Lateran,  which  is  famous  as  being  the  first 
Christian  church  in  Rome,  the  edifice  having  been  built 
in  the  fourth  century,  by  Constantine,  who  assisted  in 
laying  the  corner  stone  with  his  own  hands,  day  after 
day  performing,  as  a  religious  duty,  work  which  usually 
devolves  upon  the  servant  and  the  slave.  Here  the 
pope  is  always  crowned  immediately  after  his  election. 
Here,  too,  have  been  held  five  general  councils  —  the 
first  summoned  by  Calixtus  II.,  who  presided  in  per- 
son. Three  hundred  bishops  sat  in  solemn  debate; 
and  one  of  the  results  was  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy. 
This  council  convened  in  1123.  The  second  was  in 
1139,  and  was  presided  over  by  Innocent  II.,  and  re- 
sulted in  the  condemnation  of  various  heresies.  The 
third  was  in  1179,  and  Pope  Alexander  presided.  This 
council  opened  the  floodgates  of  persecution  upon  the 
pious  Waldenses,  and  let  loose  upon  that  unoffending 
people  the  hounds  of  death.  The  next,  in  1215,  was 
called  by  Innocent  III.,  and  contemplated  the  crusadej 
upon  the  Holy  Land.  The  last  was  in  1512,  called^ 
by  Julius  II.,  to  settle  schism  and  agitation,  which" 
broke  out  in  the  church,  and  threatened  the  quiet  and 
security  of  the  pontiff  himself 

I  here  attended  a  service  one  Sunday  afternoon  —  I 
believe  the  celebration  of  high  mass.     It  was  expected 
that  the  pope  would  be  here  in  person ;  but  illness  pre- 
vented, and  the  service  was  performed,  I  was  told,  byi 
the  celebrated  Cardinal  Mezzofanti,  who  is  said  to  be' 
the  best  Imguist  in  the  world.     The  whole  scene  was  a" 
most  ridiculous  one.     A  procession  was  formed,  com- 
posed  of  soldiers  with   glistening   arms,  monks  with^ 
lighted  tapers,  and  a  dense  crowd  of  people  of  all  ranks 


THE   ROME   OF   THE  POPES.  38ti 

and  conditions.  The  cardinals,  most  of  them  venerable- 
looking  men,  who  should  have  despised  such  folly,  were 
present,  dressed  in  their  blood-red  habits  ;  the  bishops, 
less  gay  and  gaudy,  and  the  priests,  in  solemn  black, 
made  up  a  very  imposing  spectacle.  The  service  at  the 
church  consisted  in  getting  up  and  sitting  down,  chant- 
ing and  praying,  bowing  and  kneeling.  The  common 
people  appeared  to  be  quite  interested  in  it ;  but  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  better  portion  looked  on  with  contempt. 
I  noticed  an  aged  cardinal,  whose  name  I  could  not 
learn,  who  sat  with  his  stern  eye  wandering  first  on  the 
ecclesiastics,  and  then  on  the  people.  There  was  a  con- 
temptuous smile  which  seemed  to  speak  volumes ;  and 
the  longer  I  gazed  upon  him  the  more  did  I  feel  that 
he  regarded  the  whole  display  as  an  imposition,  permit- 
ted for  a  selfish  purpose  —  perhaps,  in  his  estimation,  a 
necessary  purpose  ;  and  how  this  well-educated  class  of 
men  can  feel  any  thing  but  contempt  for  a  large  part 
of  their  foolish  rites  none  can  tell.  Were  they  igno- 
rant, as  are  many  of  the  nuns  and  friars,  they  might  be 
duped  and  blinded ;  but  they  are  men  of  science  and 
cultivation,  and  must  know  the  fraud  which  is  being 
practiced  upon  the  people. 

Connected  with  St.  John  Lateran  is  a  noble  baptistery 
which  was  built  in  the  time  of  Constantino.  A  basaltic 
vase  shows  that  it  must  have  been  used  for  immersions ; 
and  it  is  asserted  by  the  church  that  in  it  Constantino 
himself  received  the  holy  rite,  which  may  possibly  be 
true.  This  is  the  basin  in  which  E,ienzi,  in  a  moment 
of  sacrilegious  fury,  immersed  himself,  to  show  his  con- 
tempt for  sacred  things.  The  priests  tell  us  that  his 
subsequent  misfortunes  were  sent  as  a  punishment  for 
his  unholy  conduct. 

Almost  all  the  churches  of  Rome  have  about  them 


384  EUROPA. 

something  interesting  and  superstitious.  The  Church 
of  the  Capuchins  ^  has  deep  vaults  which  are  filled  up 
as  a  burial  ground.  The  earth  in  it  was  brought  from 
Jerusalem,  and  is  held  sacred  by  the  monks.  The 
vaults  consist  of  an  aisle  and  six  little  chapels,  or 
niches,  about  ten  feet  wide,  eight  feet  high,  and  six 
feet  deep.  These  niches  are  arched,  and  resemble 
niches  in  a  wall.  When  a  monk  dies,  he  is  buried 
here,  and  is  allowed  to  rest  beneath  the  ground  a  while, 
when  he  is  unburied,  clad  in  the  very  same  habit  which 
he  wore  in  life,  and  laid  out  in  state  a  while,  when  the 
bones  are  taken  to  pieces  and  scraped.  They  are  then 
piled  up  in  fantastic  order.  These  vaults,  on  entering 
them,  give  a  most  singular  effect.  The  arches  are  all 
lined  with  bones ;  skulls  are  laid  up  in  piles ;  while 
the  small  bones  are  formed  into  crosses  on  the  walls, 
and  even  the  chandeliers  in  which  hang  the  lamps 
which  illuminate  the  aisle  are  of  these  parts  of  the 
human  body,  tastefully  framed  together.  Skeletons  sit 
astride  piles  of  skulls,  or  hang  suspended  from  the 
wall,  while  hands  and  feet,  long  and  bony,  seem  to 
reach  out  in  every  direction.  The  monk  who  went 
down  with  us  into  this  place  of  skulls  —  this  Eoman 
Catholic  Golgotha  —  seemed  to  take  great  pleasure  in 
the  idea  that  he  should,  at  one  day,  slumber  in  these 
vaults,  and  be  used  up  in  this  singular  manner. 

Back  of  the  church  are  the  cloisters  of  the  friars, 
into  which  we  entered.  The  cells  are  about  six  feet 
square.  The  monk  sleeps  on  a  hard  board ;  no  bed, 
no  mattress ;  a  single  woolen  covering  only  keeping 
the  rough  wood  from  a  contact  with  the  body  of  the 
sleeper.  A  rough  table,  a  bench,  or  chair  compose  the 
furniture  of  the  room.     On  the  table,  in  one  case,  we 

'  S.  Maria  della  Concezione. 


TIIE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  885 

saw  a  loaf  of  bread,  some  burnt  coffee,  and,  on  a  little 
shelf,  a  few  books.  The  friars  of  this  order  wear  a 
woolen  habit,  no  stockings,  vest,  nor  underclothing  of 
any  description.  They  eat  little  meat,  and  live  by 
charity,  and  their  reputation  for  sanctity  is  very  high. 
They  are  of  all  ages,  from  the  young  man  just  entering 
life,  to  the  old  man  in  his  dotage.  Our  guide  said  that, 
but  for  his  wife,  he  should  enter  this  monastery,  and 
avowed  his  determination  to  do  so  when  his  wife  should 
die.  He  seemed  to  have  a  most  profound  respect  for 
these  men ;  and  when  we  left,  he  humbly  turned  and 
kissed  the  hand  of  the  dirty,  ignorant  fellow  who  had 
led  us  about. 

Many  of  these  monks  take  ecclesiastical  vows  from 
indolence.  Being  unwilling  to  work,  they  enter  some 
monastery,  and  spend  their  lives  in  begging.  Indo- 
lence is  written  on  their  faces,  and  ignorance  stares  out 
in  an  idiotic  look.  Others  enter  in  times  of  deep  af- 
fliction, when  the  ties  which  bind  them  to  earth  are 
severed.  They  feel  that  earth  has  few  joys  for  them  ; 
and,  as  their  graves  are  not  ready  for  them,  they  enter 
into  these  living  tombs,  and  abjure  society,  and  all  that 
makes  up  honest  social  life.  Others  are  forced  here  by 
crime  or  want,  and  by  the  various  sins  iand  miseries 
of  life. 

We  found  the  churches  of  Rome  full  of  images, 
statues,  and  paintings,  some  of  them  of  very  great 
value.  Immense  sums  of  money  have  been  spent  by 
successive  popes  upon  religious  edifices.  We  rode  out, 
one  day,  to  San  Paolo.  The  ancient  church  was  built 
many  centuries  ago,  over  the  spot  where  St.  Paul  was 
supposed  to  have  been  buried,  and  had  scarcely  a  supe- 
rior in  the  world.  In  1824,  it  was  consumed,  during 
some  repairs  which  were  being  made  upon  it.  The 
49  GQ 


386  EUEOPA. 

work  of  rebuilding  was  immediately  commenced,  and  for 
years  has  been  in  progress,  requiring  millions  of  money. 
When  this  church  is  completed,  it  will  be  a  most  mag- 
nificent structure.  Along  the  nave  rise  forty  pillars  of 
gray  granite,  while  waiting  to  decorate  the  altar  are  two 
Egyptian  alabaster  pillars,  of  colossal  size  and  extraor- 
dinary beauty.  In  the  walls  are  to  be  set  two  hundred 
and  fifty-eight  portraits  of  the  popes,  from  Peter  down- 
ward. They  are  transferred  from  canvas  to  mosaic,  and 
are  about  six  feet  in  diameter.  Though  years  have 
already  been  consumed  upon  this  building,  years  more 
must  elapse  before  it  will  be  complete.  Millions  have 
been  spent  here,  and  millions  must  be  lavished  ere  the 
dedication  can  take  place. 

And  what  renders  this  waste  more  censurable  is  the 
fact  that  the  church  is  out  some  distance  from  the  city, 
on  the  Campagna,  where  even  the  monks  cannot  live 
but  a  part  of  the  year,  and  where  the  edifice  can  be  of 
no  benefit  to  the  suffering  people.  On  our  return,  our 
guide  stopped  and  said,  pointing  to  a  tree  by  the  way- 
side, "  Under  that  tree,  Peter  and  Paul  parted  a  while 
before  the  latter  was  put  to  death.  '  Go,'  said.  Paul, 
'  to  Rome  —  go,  founder  of  the  church  and  friend  of 
God ! ' " 

From  the  Church  of  St.  Sebastian,  a  passage  way 
leads  down  into  the  catacombs  of  Rome.  They  are 
irregular,  unlighted,  winding  passages,  extending  far 
under  the  houses  and  churches  of  the  city.  They  yet 
contain  the  bones  of  the  dead,  and  were  doubtless  the 
abodes  of  Christians  during  the  times  of  cruel  perse- 
cutions. 

Hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  and  indeed  month 

"  after  month,  may  the  stranger  wander  about  among  the 

churches  of  Rome,  finding  some  new  object  of  interest 


THE  ROME  Of  the  POPES.  387 

and  study  wherever  he  goes.  Beautiful  statuary,  finely 
finished  paintings,  and  other  evidences  of  taste  and  art, 
draw  more  admiration  than  the  hypocritical  service 
which  is  chanted  at  the  altar. 

From  the  churches  we  proceed  to  the  Vatican,  the 
residence  of  the  pope,  where  is  treasured  up  the  lore 
of  centuries,  and  which  is  the  most  wonderful  palace  in 
the  world.  It  stands  in  a  fine  position  on  the  left  of 
St.  Peter's,  and  communicates  with  the  Castle  of  St. 
Angelo  by  a  covered  gallery.  It  has  eight  grand  stair- 
cases ;  two  hundred  of  less  size  and  elegance ;  twenty 
courts,  and  four  thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty-two 
fine  apartments.  These  apartments  are  filled  with  every 
thing  valuable  in  the  fine  arts,  and  every  thing  beauti- 
ful in  works  of  taste.  Here  the  galleries  extend  for 
miles,  the  building  itself  being  one  thousand  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-one  feet  long,  and  seven  hundred  and 
sixty-seven  feet  wide.  Here  dead  marble  speaks  with 
a  living  voice,  and  silent  painting  and  lifeless  canvas 
teach  eloquent  lessons.  It  would,  be  useless  to  enter 
into  any  detail  of  the  works  of  art  which  are  stored  in 
this  noble  edifice.  Here,  among  the  paintings,  is  the 
great  masterpiece  of  Raphael,  the  Transfiguration, 
which  has  formed  an  object  of  just  admiration  from  the 
day  of  its  execution,  and  which,  after  his  decease,  was 
hung  over  his  corpse,  and  worshiped  by  bowing,  su- 
perstitious throngs.  Other  works  by  the  same  hand 
attest  the  perfection  of  his  art.  The  Conversion  of 
St.  Jerome,  by  the  talented  Domenichino,  like  a  living 
scene  looks  down  from  the  wall,  and  whoever  gazes 
upon  it  breaks  out  in  admiration.  The  Crucifixion 
of  St.  Peter,  by  Guide,  is  so  true  to  nature  and  so  just 
tc  art  that  tears  of  sympathy  steal  unbiflden  down  the 
cheek,  while  you  almost  believe  that  the  dead  canvas 


388  EUROPA. 

feels  the  dreadful  pain.  Hundreds  of  others,  challen- 
gmg  your  warmest  apx^robation,  before  which  crowds 
gather,  and  which  inferior  artists  are  endeavoring  to 
copy,  assure  you  that  months  could  be  spent  here  in 
most  interesting  pursuits. 

Other  doors  open,  and  you  stand  before  the  famous 
Laocoon,  copies  of  which  are  found  all  over  the  world; 
the  woild-renowned  Apollo  Belvedere;  the  Sleeping 
Cleopatra ;  the  Belvedere  Antonius,  before  which  stood 
one  of  the  greatest  artists  ^  of  the  world,  declaring  that 
he  derived  from  it  all  the  conceptions  of  the  beautiful 
which  he  ever  had  ;  the  Torso  Belvedere,  the  work  of  a 
noble  Athenian,^  and  admired  by  artists  and  emperors ; 
and  all  the  endless  display  of  statuary,  wrought  by  men 
of  all  climes  and  ages,  from  a  broken  figure  to  a  perfect 
form.  You  pass  from  gallery  to  gallery,  now^  amid  the 
productions  of  the  sea,  and  then  amid  the  trophies 
gathered  from  the  air ;  now  wandering  amid  the  relics 
of  Egypt,  and  anon  admiring  the  classic  representations 
of  Greece. 

These  public  apartments  of  the  pope's  palace  are 
shown,  without  a  fee,  to  all  who  choose  to  examine 
them.  The  library  is  not  large,  but  well  selected,  and 
unlike  any  public  library  I  ever  saw,  the  books  being 
concealed  from  the  gaze  of  the  passer  by  by  wooden 
doors,  profusely  ornamented.  There  are  some  choice 
volumes  here,  and  many  manuscripts  of  great  value. 

The  pope  has  his  private  apartments,  and  on  the  day 
of  our  visit  he  had  held  a  consultation  with  the  cardi- 
nals, whom  we  saw  driving  away  in  great  state,  gazed 
after  and  admired  by  the  people,  ay,  and  hated  too. 

Here  at  the  Vatican  is  also  the  Sistine  Chapel,  or 

'  Domeip'  ihino.  ^  Apollonius. 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  389 

the  private  sanctuary  of  the  pope.  It  is  a  dingy  hall, 
and  celebrated  mostly  for  the  great  painting  of  the 
Last  Judgment,  by  Michael  Angelo.  The  painting, 
which  is  a  noble  conception  and  a  glorious  execution, 
is  much  defaced  by  time  and  the  smoke  of  candles.  It 
is  sixty  feet  long  and  thirty  broad.  The  dead  are  seen 
rising  from  their  graves  —  the  good  and  bad;  the 
angels  winging  their  way  from  the  hights  above,  and 
sweeping  to  the  depths  beneath ;  the  anguish  of  some 
and  the  joy  of  others;  all  stand  out  with  striking 
effect.  The  great  artist  has  borrowed  his  idea  from 
the  Scripture  representations  of  the  last  day,  and  has 
made  a  picture  worthy  of  his  immortal  genius. 

The  pope's  chair  of  state  is  a  plain  affair,  on  a  semi- 
circular elevation,  and  we  sat  down  in  it  without  deriv- 
ing any  pontifical  virtue  from  the  act.  In  this  chapel 
Pius  IX.  says  mass  for  the  living  and  vespers  for  the 
dead ;  here  he  blesses  plumes  and  belts,  hats  and  swords, 
and  does  a  hundred  other  silly  things 

"  Which  children  love  and  fools  admire." 

The  Capitol,  on  the  Capitoline  Hill,  is  visited  not 
only  for  the  view  from  the  tower,  of  which  I  have  spo- 
ken, but  for  its  galleries  of  painting  and  sculpture. 
The  visitor  passes  up  the  hill  by  the  old  milestone  of 
Vespasian,  the  bronze  horse,  —  from  which,  on  festive 
occasions  long  agone,  water  ran  from  one  nostril  and 
wine  from  the  other,  —  and  various  other  statues  of 
merit  and  celebrity.  The  Capitol  consists  of  three  large 
buildings,  forming  a  square  open  on  the  front,  and 
filled  with  works  of  art  and  offices  for  men  of  honor 
and  labor.  As  the  stranger  wanders  through  these 
halls,  he  will  note  the  Bronze  Wolf,  — 

GG* 


390  EUROPA. 

"  The  thunder-stricken  nurse  of  Rome,"  — 

which  Cicero  has  rendered  immortal  as  his  own  name 
and  works,  and  which  suckled  the  founder  of  the  great 
and  glorious  empire ;  the  Dying  Gladiator,  as 

"  He  leans  upon  his  hand —  his  manly  brow 
Consents  to  death,  but  conquers  agony, 
And  his  drooped  head  sinks  gradually  low ; 
And  through  his  side  the  last  drops,  ebbing  slow 
From  the  red  gash,  fall  heavy,  one  by  one. 
Like  the  first  of  a  thunder  shower ;  "  — 

the  Venus  of  the  Capitol,  none  too  well  veiled  for 
common  gaze ;  and  many  a  form  of  beauty,  which  the 
artist's  eyes  never  tire  in  beholding. 

The  old  hoary  Inquisition  Palace  is  on  the  left  of 
St.  Peter's.  What  is  in  that  terrible  edifice  can  be 
better  told  by  the  miserable  creatures  who  have  escaped 
from  its  portals.  What  ingenious  machines  devised  to 
torture  man;  what  engines  of  horrid  cruelty;  what 
cells  and  dungeons;  what  living  and  dead  skeletons; 
what  chained  wretches  ;  what  imprisoned  priests, — none 
can  tell,  except  it  be  those  who  are  more  conversant 
with  that  place  of  blood  than  any  traveler  is  likely  to 
be,  unless  he  is  found  reading  his  Bible,  or  speaking  of 
Jesus  to  a  perishing  sinner,  or,  like  Daniel,  praying 
with  his  windows  open  towards  Jerusalem. 

There  are  many  other  private  and  public  places  in 
Rome  upon  which  I  would  be  glad  to  dwell,  did  time 
permit.  The  old  cloister  of  Tasso,  with  his  papers  and 
inkstand  still  remaining  as  he  left  them ;  (the  old  oak 
under  which  he  sat  has  unfortunately  been  broken 
down;)  the  grave  in  which  his  ashes  rest,  and  other 
scenes   connected   with    his    memory;    the   house   of 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  POPES.  391 

Rienzi,  the  last  of  the  tribunes,  near  the  banks  of 
the  Tiber;  the  home  of  Raphael,  where  he  dreamed 
of  glory  and  success;  and  many  others  of  great  his- 
toric mterest,  —  are  all  here,  parts  of  mighty  Rome, 
identified  with  its  past  and  present  history. 

One  spot  I  ought  not  to  omit  in  this  enumeration. 
It  is  the  English  burying  ground,  near  the  tomb  of 
Caius  Cestius.  That  sacred  spot  is  unhonored  by  the 
Romans,  for  buried  there  are  many  Protestants,  who 
have  gone  to  the  grave  without  any  of  the  foolish  rites 
of  the  Papal  church,  and  of  course  under  the  curse  of 
bigoted  monks.  But  to  the  stranger,  who  knows  not 
but  that  cemetery  will  be  his  own  resting-place,  the 
spot  has  a  melancholy  interest,  and  he  lingers  long 
amid  the  graves  of  heretics.  There  sleeps  Shelley,  the 
poet,  whose  heart  would  not  consume,  and  on  whose 
marble  are  words  of  truth  and  beauty.  Another  poet 
is  here,  who  went  to  his  grave  young  in  life,  and  who, 
disappointed  with  this  world,  asked  to  have  written  on 
his  gravestone,  "  Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in 
water."  It  is  John  Keats  of  the  broken  spirit.  Rich- 
ard Wyatt,  whose  skillful  chisel  on  many  a  marble  form 
traced  lines  of  beauty,  has  a  grave,  shaded  by  flowers 
and  the  box  tree ;  and  all  around,  on  tombs  and  urns, 
are  English  names,  which,  amid  the  uncouth  appella- 
tions of  the  Italians,  sound  familiar,  pleasant,  and 
homelike. 

We  turn  now  from  churches  and  palaces,  prisons  and 
tombs,  to  look  at  the  people  of  Rome  —  from  things  to 
men.  We  know  what  the  Romans  were  in  other  days, 
when  no  honor  was  greater,  or  sought  more  eagerly, 
than  that  of  being  a  citizen  of  Rome.  We  know  what 
they  were  when  the  eagle  hovered  over  the  imperial 
throne,  and  banners  waved   over   conquering   armies. 


392  EUROPA. 

1 

But  how  sadly  does  the  present  contrast  with  the  past, 
and  how  few  evidences  of  the  former  glory  of  Rome 
remain !  No  one  would  ever  cross  the  ocean  to  see 
the  Rome  of  the  present;  the  dead  past,  lingering  in 
crumbling  ruins,  is  all  that  draws  the  traveler  to  that 
fallen  city.  Without  the  walls,  misery,  which  knows 
no  abatement,  reigns.  Wherever  on  the  Campagna  a 
hovel  stands,  it  is  seen  to  be  tenantless,  or  inhabited 
by  a  most  wretched  inmate.  In  the  villages  through 
which  you  pass  on  your  way  to  or  from  Rome,  in  either 
direction,  you  gaze  out  of  the  window  of  the  diligence 
upon  a  set  of  barbarians,  who  no  sooner  see  your  head 
than  they  set  up  a  clamor  for  money,  from  which  you 
take  refuge  in  some  stable  or  dwelling,  to  the  door  of 
which  you  will  be  followed  by  a  group  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  whining  piteously  enough  to  move  the 
heart  of  even  the  pope  himself  When  you  enter  the 
city,  you  find  more  culture  and  refinement  indeed,  but 
you  do  not  lose  sight  of  misery  and  degradation.  They 
every  where  appear;  and  at  every  gate,  alike  of  the 
Vatican  and  the  Capitol,  the  Forum  and  the  Coliseum, 
they  stare  you  in  the  face  and  demand  your  commisera- 
tion. There  seems  to  be  little  industry  and  life.  The 
classes  that  draw  most  attention  are  the  barefooted  beg- 
gars, the  bareheaded  friars,  and  the  barefaced  soldiers. 
These  are  met  in  every  street,  in  every  church,  and  are 
as  thick  as  the  frogs  and  lice  in  ancient  Egypt,  and 
about  as  repulsive  and  disagreeable.  Amid  the  schools 
and  colleges  of  the  Propaganda,  the  j^^ople  are  left  in 
gross  ignorance.  The  means  of  divine  illumination  are 
taken  away,  and  the  voice  of  conscience  is  completely 
hushed. 

There  are  certain  portions  of  the  year  when  Rome 
may  be  said  to  be  a  gay  city.      This  is  during  the 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  rOPES.  393 

religious  festivals,  which  continue  a  few  months,  and 
are  conducted  with  great  enthusiasm.  The  carnival, 
which  continues  eight  days,  and  consists  of  a  succession 
of  masquerades,  races,  balls,  and  frolicks,  is  gay,  mag- 
nificent, and  foolish  beyond  description.  The  last  two 
days  bring  out  all  the  people  of  Rome,  and  thousands 
of  strangers,  who  resort  to  the  city  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  the  famous  sports.  Three  days  are  spent  in  a 
gay  frolick  between  men,  women,  and  children,  in  which 
they  pelt  each  other  with  flowers,  sugar  plums,  and 
other  confectionery,  until  the  Corso  becomes  a  vast 
trough  of  roses  and  sugar,  in  which  the  people  wallow, 
to  their  great  delight.  The  Corso  is  the  broad  way, 
the  great  thoroughfare  of  Rome ;  and  it  is  here  that 
pleasure  appears  in  its  most  attractive  forms.  Families 
lay  aside  their  aristocratic  pride,  and  ride  out  in  their 
carriages ;  strangers  hire  less  imposing  vehicles ;  poorer 
classes  on  foot  crowd  the  streets,  while  the  windows, 
verandas,  porticoes,  and  balconies  are  filled  with  the 
delighted  spectators.  The  route  of  the  procession  is 
designated,  and  no  tide  rolls  in  an  opposite  direction. 
Especially  in  the  Corso  is  the  greatest  care  used  to 
prevent  tumult  and  accident.  The  carriages  are  filled 
with  men  and  women,  young  and  old,  gay  and  grave, 
who  are  armed  with  baskets  of  flowers  and  piles  of 
confectionery,  which  they  throw  at  others  whom  they 
may  meet  in  the  street,  in  other  carriages,  on  the  side- 
walks, and  at  the  windows.  The  faces  of  the  actors 
in  this  scene  are  generally  masked,  and  grotesquely 
dressed,  and  present  a  singular  appearance.  As  I  did 
not  witness  this  gay  parade,  the  carnival  having  closed 
before  my  arrival  in  Rome,  I  will  give  an  account  of 
this  scene  in  the  words  of  Dickens,  who,  in  a  little 
50 


394  EUROPA. 

work  ^  of  his,  has  an  amusing  and  laughable  account 
of  these  eight  festive  days,  in  which  he  participated  a 
few  years  since.  He  brings  us  into  the  Corso  just  as 
the  sport  is  commencing,  and  we  will  follow  his  ac- 
count of  it. 

"  From  all  the  innumerable  balconies  —  from  the 
remotest  and  highest,  no  less  than  from  the  lowest  and 
nearest  —  hangings  of  bright  red,  bright  green,  bright 
blue,  white,  and  gold  were  fluttering  in  the  brilliant 
sunlight.  From  windows,  and  from  parapets,  and  tops 
of  houses,  streamers  of  the  richest  colors  and  draperies 
of  the  gaudiest  and  most  sparkling  hues  were  floating 
out  upon  the  street.  The  buildings  seemed  to  have 
been  literally  turned  inside  out,  and  to  have  all  their 
gayety  towards  the  highway.  Shop  fronts  were  taken 
down,  and  the  windows  filled  with  company,  like  boxes 
at  a  shilling  theater ;  doors  were  carried  off  their  hinges, 
and  long  tapestried  groves,  hung  with  garlands  of  flow- 
ers and  evergreens,  displayed  within  ;  builders'  scaffold- 
ings were  gorgeous  temples,  radiant  in  silver,  gold,  and 
crimson ;  and  in  every  nook  and  corner,  from  the  pave- 
ment to  the  chimney  tops,  where  women's  eyes  could 
glisten,  there  they  danced,  and  laughed,  and  sparkled 
like  the  light  in  water.  Every  sort  of  bewitching  mad- 
ness of  dress  was  there.  Little  preposterous  scarlet 
jackets ;  quaint  old  stomachers,  more  wicked  than  the 
smartest  bodices  ;  Polish  pelisses,  strained  and  tight 
as  ripe  gooseberries ;  tiny  Greek  caps,  all  awry,  and 
clinging  to  the  dark  hair.  Heaven  knows  how ;  every 
wild,  quaint,  bold,  shy,  pettish,  madcap  fancy  had  its 
illustration  in  a  dress,  and  every  fancy  was  as  dead  for- 
gotten by  its  owner,  in  the  tumult  of  merriment,  as  if 

'  Pictures  from  Italy. 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  395 

the  three  old  aqueducts  that  still  remain  entire  had 
brought  Lethe  into  Rome  upon  their  sturdy  arches  that 
morning.  The  carriages  were  now  three  abreast ;  in 
broader  places,  four ;  often  stationary  for  a  long  time 
together ;  always  one  close  mass  of  variegated  bright- 
ness, showing  the  whole  street  full,  through  the  storm 
of  flowers,  like  flowers  of  a  larger  growth  themselves. 
In  some,  the  horses  were  richly  caparisoned  in  magnifi- 
cent trappings  ;  in  others,  they  were  decked,  from  head 
to  tail,  with  flowing  ribins.  Some  were  driven  by 
coachmen  with  enormous  double  faces,  one  face  leer- 
ing at  the  horses,  the  other  cocking  its  extraordinary 
eyes  into  the  carriage,  and  both  rattling  again  under 
the  hail  of  sugar  plums.  Other  drivers  were  attired 
as  women,  wearing  long  ringlets  and  no  bonnets,  and 
looking  more  ridiculous,  in  any  real  difficulty  with  the 
horses,  than  tongue  can  tell  or  pen  describe.  Instead 
of  sitting  in  the  carriages,  upon  the  seats,  the  hand- 
some Roman  women,  to  see  and  be  seen  the  better,  sit 
in  the  heads  of  the  barouches,  at  this  time  of  general 
license,  with  their  feet  upon  the  cushions  —  and  O,  the 
flowing  skirts  and  dainty  waists,  the  blessed  shapes  and 
laughing  faces,  the  free,  good-humored,  gallant  flgures 
that  they  make !  There  were  great  vans,  too,  full  of 
handsome  girls — thirty  or  more  together,  perhaps ;  and 
the  broadsides  that  were  poured  into  and  poured  out 
of  these  fairy  fire-ships  splashed  the  air  with  flowers 
and  bonbons  for  ten  minutes  at  a  time.  Carriages, 
delayed  long  in  one  place,  would  begin  a  deliberate 
engagement  with  other  carriages,  or  with  people  at  the 
lower  windows ;  and  the  spectators  at  some  upper  bal- 
cony or  window,  joining  in  the  fray,  and  attacking  both 
parties,  would  empty  down  great  bags  of  confetti^  that 
descended  like  a  cloud,  and  in  an  instant  made  them  as 


396  EUROPA. 

white  as  millers.  Still  carriages  on  carriages,  dresses 
on  dresses,  colors  on  colors,  crowds  on  crowds,  with- 
out end.  Men  and  boys  clinging  to  the  wheels  of 
coaches,  and  holding  on  behind,  and  following  in  their 
wake,  and  diving  in  among  the  horses'  feet,  to  pick  up 
scattered  flowers  to  sell  again ;  maskers  on  foot,  in 
fantastic  exaggeration  of  court  dresses,  surveying  the 
throng  through  enormous  eye-glasses,  and  always  trans- 
ported with  an  ecstasy  of  love  on  the  discovery  of  any 
particular  old  lady  at  a  window  ;  long  strings  of 
policinelU,  laying  about  them  with  blown  bladders  at 
the  ends  of  sticks ;  a  wagon  full  of  madmen,  screaming 
and  tearing  to  the  life ;  a  coach  full  of  grave  Mame- 
lukes, with  their  horse-tail  standard  set  up  in  the 
midst ;  a  party  of  gypsy  women,  engaged  in  terrific 
conflict  with  a  ship  full  of  sailors  ;  a  man-monkey  on  a 
pole,  surrounded  by  strange  animals  with  pigs'  faces 
and  lions'  tails,  carried  under  their  arms,  or  worn 
gracefully  over  their  shoulders ;  carriages  on  carriages, 
dresses  on  dresses,  colors  on  colors,  crowds  on  crowds, 
without  end.  Not  many  actual  characters  sustained  or 
represented,  perhaps,  considering  the  number  dressed, 
but  the  main  pleasure  of  the  scene  consisting  in  its 
perfect  good  temper,  in  its  bright,  and  infinite,  and 
flashing  variety,  and  in  its  entire  abandonment,  so  per- 
fect, so  contagious,  so  irresistible,  that  the  steadiest  for- 
eigner fights  up  to  his  middle  in  flowers  and  sugar 
plums  like  the  wildest  Roman  of  them  all,  and  thinks 
of  nothing  else  until  night,  when  he  is  reminded  that 
this  is  not  the  whole  business  of  his  existence." 

At  nightfall,  the  military  clear  the  streets,  and  a  race 
commences.  Several  horses,  painted,  numbered,  and 
gayly  adorned,  but  without  riders,  are  let  loose  in  the 
Corso,  and  dash  along  beneath  the  people,  who  gaze 


THE  ROME  OF  THE  POPES.  397 

down  from  every  window  and  roof  top  with  shouts  and 
mirth.  This  senseless  race  is  soon  over  ;  the  horses 
plunge  through  the  silk  which  is  hung  across  the  street 
to  show  where  terminates  the  course  ;  and  a  new  scene 
commences.  Carriages  again  fill  the  Corso,  crowded 
with  beauty  and  life.  Each  person  has  a  lamp,  and  the 
frolic  consists  in  blowing  out  each  one  the  lamp  of  his 
iieighbor,  and  keeping  his  own  burning.  The  Corso 
becomes  a  cloud  of  fire,  which  shines  out  from  many  a 
torch  and  lantern.  Red,  green,  blue,  and  many  a  gay 
color  flashes  on  the  sight,  until  the  whole  scene  be- 
comes one  of  bewildering  beauty.  AVe  will  trust  to 
the  same  pen  for  a  description  of  this  brilliant  scene. 
"  The  spectacle  at  this  time  is  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary that  can  be  imagined.  Carriages  coming 
slowly  by,  with  every  body  standing  on  the  seat  or  on 
the  box,  holding  up  their  lights  at  arm's  length,  for 
greater  safety ;  some  in  paper  shades ;  some  with  a 
bunch,  of  undefended  little  tapers,  kindled  together ; 
some  with  blazing  torches  ;  some  with  feeble  little  can- 
dles ;  men  on  foot,  creeping  along  among  the  wheels, 
watching  their  opportunity  to  make  a  spring  at  some 
particular  light,  and  dash  it  out ;  other  people  climb- 
ing up  into  carriages,  to  get  hold  of  them  by  main 
force;  others  chasing  some  unlucky  wanderer  round 
and  round  his  own  coach,  to  blow  out  the  light  he  has 
begged  or  stolen  somewhere,  before  he  can  ascend  to 
his  own  company ;  others,  with  theu-  hats  off*  at  a  car- 
riage door,  humbly  beseeching  some  kind  lady  to  oblige 
them  with  a  light  for  a  cigar,  and,  when  she  is  in  the 
fullness  of  doubt  whether  to  comply  or  not,  blowing 
out  the  candle  she  is  guarding  so  tenderly  with  her 
little  hand ;  other  people,  at  windows,  fishing  for  can- 
dles with  lines  and  hooks,  or  letting  down  long  willow 

HH 


398  EUROPA. 

wands,  with  handkerchiefs  at  the  end,  and  flapping 
them  out  when  the  bearer  is  at  the  hight  of  his  tri- 
umph; others  hiding  all  their  time  in  corners,  with 
immense  extinguishers,  like  halberds,  and  suddenly 
coming  down  upon  glorious  torches ;  others  gathering 
round  one  coach,  and  sticking  to  it ;  others  raining 
oranges  and  nosegays  at  an  obdurate  little  lantern,  or 
regularly  storming  a  pyramid  of  men,  holding  up  one 
man  among  them,  who  carries  one  feeble  little  wick 
above  his  head,  with  which  he  defies  them  all ;  beauti- 
ful women,  standing  up  in  coaches,  pointing  in  derision 
at  extinguished  lights,  and  clapping  their  hands  as 
they  pass  on ;  low  balconies  full  of  lovely  faces  and 
gay  dresses,  struggling  with  assailants  in  the  street, 
some  repressing  them  as  they  climb  up,  some  bending 
down,  some  leaning  over,  some  shrinking  back ;  delicate 
arms  and  bosoms,  graceful  figures,  gleaming  lights,  flut- 
tering dresses  ;  when,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  scene, 
and  the  fullest  ecstasy  of  the  sport,  the  Ave  Maria 
rings  from  the  church  steeples,  and  the  carnival  is  over 
in  an  instant  —  put  out  like  a  taper  with  a  breath." 
The  carnival  closes,  and  Rome  settles  down  into  a 
quiet  state,  and,  instead  of  the  Corso  filled  with  a  glad 
crowd  of  beautiful  women  and  cheerful  men,  beggars, 
by  legions,  roam  along  the  same  way,  cursing  their 
very  existence,  and  denouncing  the  cardinals  as  the 
authors  of  their  misery.  During  the  carnival,  Rome  is 
a  sort  of  paradise  —  a  heaven  of  gay  pleasures ;  but 
when  the  carnival  closes,  hell  begins,  and  the  poor 
stricken  objects  of  want  and  commiseration  groan  over 
their  sufferings,  and  wring  their  hands  in  anguish. 
These  festivals  are  held  to  cover  up  the  wretchedness 
of  the  masses ;  but  they  cannot  do  it.  They  are  the 
gossamer  robes  of  pleasure,  beneath  which  vice,  crime, 
and  wo  appear  uncovered  and  undisguised. 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      399 


XXXI. 

PIUS  IX.   AND   THE   CATHOLIC   CHURCH. 

On  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  June,  1846,  an  old 
man  died  in  the  Qnirinal  palace.  As  soon  as  the  event 
was  known,  one  of  the  cardinals,  Camerlinque,  repaired 
to  the  palace,  and  went  through  the  usual  formality  of 
striking  three  blows  on  the  forehead  of  the  dead  man, 
and  announcing  officially  to  the  people  of  Rome  that 
"  papa  was  surely  dead."  That  old  man  was  Mauri 
Capellari,  on  whose  head  the  triple  crown  had  been 
placed,  and  who  had  adopted  the  title  of  Gregory  XVI. 
His  death  was  not  regarded  as  a  great  calamity.  The 
character  of  the  pope  was  such,  that  there  was  more 
joy  than  sorrow  in  Rome,  when  the  tidings  of  his  death 
were  published  arouad.  His  habits  were  loose  in  the 
extreme ;  and  the  well-known  fact  that  on  his  elevation 
to  the  throne  he  fitted  up  splendid  apartments  in  the 
Vatican  for  Cajetanina,  the  wife  of  an  obscure  barber, 
and  her  family,  drcAV  upon  him  the  contempt  of  all 
decent  people  in  the  city.  This  barber  and  wife 
acquired  so  much  influence  over  the  old  man,  that  they 
became  the  head  of  the  state,  and  ruled  the  empire. 
That  he  was  a  man  of  notoriously  intemperate  habits 
was  known  in  his  lifetime  to  all  Rome,  and  when  he 
died  few  tears  were  shed  for  him,  except  by  the  wife  of 
his  friend  the  barber.  So  little  was  he  respected,  that 
ere  his  clay  was  cold,  or  the  worms  had  time  to  per- 
form their  work,  the  people  set  themselves  to  getting  up 


400  EUEOPA. 

caricatures  of  the  man,  setting  off  his  well-knciwn 
vices,  and  his  incorrigible  hatred  to  progress,  and  hold- 
ing him  up  to  the  ridicule  of  his  subjects  and  followers. 
Two  ^  of  these  are  amusing  enough  for  us  to  mention 
The  first  represents  the  deceased  pope  knocking  for 
admittance  at  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

"  Who  v/ishes  to  enter  1 "  asks  St.  Peter. 

"  Gregory,  your  successor  at  Rome." 

"  But,"  replies  St.  Peter,  "  Gregory  the  Great  died 
and  came  here  a  long  time  ago.  Who  are  you  that 
have  taken  his  name  1 " 

"Why,  they  called  me  at  Rome  Gregory  Bevone," 
(Gregory  the  Tippler.) 

"  O,  I  have  heard  of  you ;  come  in." 

The  second  is  designed  to  take  off  the  pope's  objec- 
tions to  railroads  and  other  improvements,  and  repre- 
sents Gregory  and  St,  Peter  going  together  to  Paradise. 

The  journey  being  hard  and  tedious  for  an  aged 
man,  he  complains  to  St.  Peter  thus :  — 

"How  is  it,  St.  Peter,  that  our  journey  is  so  long*? 
I  did  not  know  that  Paradise  was  so  far  from  the 
Vatican." 

St.  Peter  replies,  "  If  you  had  allowed  the  construc- 
tion of  railways  and  steamers  in  your  states,  we  should 
have  arrived  long  ago ;  but  now  you  must  stop  for  a 
while  in  Pui'gatory." 

After  remaining  some  months  in  Purgatory,  where, 
(as  the  story  goes,)  he  met  his  friend  Daniel  O'Connell, 
Gregory  set  out  with  St.  Peter  again  on  his  eternal 
journey.  Coming  in  view  of  Paradise,  the  pope  asks 
St.  Peter,  "  why  the  angels,  and  his  last  predecessors  in 
the  papal  chair,  did  not  come  out  to  meet  him." 

'  These  pasquinades  are  given  on  the  authority  of  Rev.  John  Dowling, 
D.  D.,  History  of  Romanism,  p.  653. 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      401 

<'  Dear  Gregory,"  replies  St.  Peter,  "  as  for  the  popes, 
there  are  few  of  them  in  heaven,  and  the  news  of  your 
death  has  not  reached  there,  as  it  would  have  done  had 
jou  established  telegraphs,  and  granted  the  freedom  of 
the  press." 

When  the  saint  and  the  pope  arrive  at  the  gates  of 
Paradise,  St.  Peter  asks  Gregory  for  his  key,  which 
after  some  time  the  pope  finds  and  hands  to  him,  but  it 
proves  to  be  the  key  of  his  wine  cellar. 

Presently  St.  Peter  is  admitted  within  the  gates,  but 
Gregory  somehow  is  lost  in  the  fog. 

Leaving  the  dead  pope,  we  turn  to  the  living  one, 
whose  name  is  Giovanni  Maria  Mastai  Feretti,  who  is 
of  noble  birth,  being  the  seventh  son  of  an  aristocratic 
and  titled  gentleman,  who  had  more  dignity  of  rank 
than  length  of  purse.  The  younger  son,  therefore,  was 
obliged  to  enter  the  army  or  the  church ;  and  as  the 
latter  has  less  work  and  more  pay,  Mastai  became  an 
ecclesiastic.  He  passed  through  the  various  stages  of 
preferment;  was  made  an  archbishop  in  1829,  and  a 
cardinal  in  1840.  When  Gregory  died,  the  cardinals, 
according  to  the  usual  custom,  shut  themselves  up,  and 
proceeded  to  the  election  of  his  successor.  Five  days 
were  spent  in  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  elect  some  one 
to  lead  the  hosts  of  Rome;  but  on  the  sixth  it  was 
announced  that  Cardinal  Feretti  was  pope,  under  the 
title  of  Pius  IX.  For  a  while  the  new  pope,  after  his 
election,  pursued  a  generous  and  liberal  policy,  Avhich 
gave  great  satisfaction  to  the  people,  who  illuminated 
the  city,  flocked  around  the  palace,  and  shouted  their 
praises  to  their  new  master;  and  w^hen  he  rode  out, 
they,  in  their  enthusiasm,  unharnessed  the  horses  of 
his  carriage,  and,  with  glad  songs,  drew  him  themselves 
through  the  city.     He  dismissed  from  office  the  prime 

51  HH  * 


402  EUROPA. 

minister  of  the  dead  pope,  Cardinal  Lambruschini,  as 
base  a  tyrant  as  ever  lived,  and  who  was  justly  hated 
by  the  people ;  gave  encouragement  to  several  minor 
reforms ;  disbanded  a  foreign  guard -which  had  attended 
the  court ;  uttered  sentiments  friendly  to  the  freedom 
of  the  press ;  and,  contrary  to  all  precedents,  preached 
in  public  after  his  august  coronation.  The  Romans 
imagined  that  the  hour  of  their  freedom  had  come. 
They  looked  to  the  pope  as  their  savior,  and  blessed 
the  hand  which  had  removed  from  the  pontificate 
Gregory  XVL,  and  placed  Pius  IX.  upon  the  episco- 
pal throne.  But  they  were  destined  to  a  sad  disap- 
pointment; and  events  were  to  prove  that  they  had 
only  exchanged  one  tyrant  for  another.  The  pope's 
reform  measures  did  not  meet  with  the  approval  of  the 
church.  The  cardinals  and  priests  began  to  whine  and 
rebel;  the  Austrian  government  sent  over  its  protest, 
and  Prince  Mettemich,  who  is  called  by  the  patriots  of 
Germany  "  Prince  Midnight,"  commanded  the  Austrian 
ambassador  to  resist  every  innovation  which  the  pope 
might  make  on  long-established  usages;  a  Capuchin 
monk  made  an  attempt  upon  the  life  of  Pius ;  two  or 
three  orders  conspired  against  him ;  a  deep  plan  was 
laid  to  slaughter  all  the  liberals  in  Rome,  and  carry  the 
pope  to  Naples;  arms  were  found,  and  money  was 
pledged  to  carry  out  the  plot ;  and  to  crown  the  whole, 
the  Austrian  army  began  its  march  upon  the  city,  and 
Pio  Nono  was  driven  to  concessions  which  a  pope 
never  made  before.  These  demonstrations  forced  back- 
ward the  wave  of  reformation,  and  stayed  the  progress 
of  liberalism,  which  were  becoming  so  prevalent.  The 
pope,  alarmed  for  his  head  or  mitre,  soon  began  to  re- 
trace his  steps,  and  it  was  not  long  ere  he  liad  undone 
all  the  good,  and   plunged   into   gross   errors,  which 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      403 

armed  against  him  the  opposition  of  his  subjects. 
They  had  tasted  liberty ;  they  had  seen  the  dawn  of  a 
better  day,  and  ardently  desired  to  be  completely  free  ; 
and  when  the  pope  began  to  draw  the  reins,  and  issue 
his  oppressive  enactments,  they  rose  up  against  him, 
until,  on  the  24th  of  November,  1848,  the  supreme 
tyrant  fled  from  Eome  in  the  jacket  of  a  Bavarian 
slave,  and  found  shelter  from  his  loving  subjects  in 
the  arms  of  Ferdinand  of  Naples,  at  Gaeta. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  the  legions  of  France  thundered 
at  the  gates  of  Rome,  broke  down  the  walls,  restored 
the  pope,  and  to-day  he  keeps  his  seat  through  the 
influence  of  two  hostile  armies,  whose  cannon  point 
towards  the  Vatican. 

I  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  his  holiness  under 
very  favorable  circumstances ;  and  though  my  admira- 
tion of  the  poor,  foolish  old  man  did  not  increase  by 
the  public  exhibition  which  he  made  of  himself,  yet  I 
was  glad  to  be  in  Rome  at  the  time.  It  was  at  the 
great  festival  of  Corpus  Domini,  w^hich  is  celebrated 
with  great  enthusiasm  in  all  Papal  countries.  The 
origin  of  this  festival  is  something  like  this :  A  nun, 
in  the  twelfth  century,  while  gazing  from  the  little 
window  of  her  cloister  upon  the  full  moon,  which  was 
riding  in  the  heavens  above,  saw  in  that  luminary  a  gap 
or  crevice.  While  she  wondered  what  this  could  mean, 
a  soft,  mysterious  influence  stole  over  her  senses,  and  a 
divine  form  appeared,  and  she  was  informed  that  the 
moon  represented  the  church,  and  the  gap  was  illustrat- 
ing the  want  of  some  religious  festival.  She  inquired 
what  it  was,  and  was  informed  that  it  was  the  adoration 
of  the  consecrated  wafer.  She  was  commissioned  to 
announce  this  to  the  world,  and  to  commence  the  cele- 
bration of  Corpus  Domini,  or  Corpus  Christi,  as  it  is 


404  EUROPA. 

sometimes  called.  Pope  Urban  TV.  set  apart  the  Thurs- 
day following,  Trinity  Sunday,  for  the  celebration,  and 
down  to  this  day  it  has  been  observed.  Many  curious 
miracles  have  been  performed  on  that  day,  and  in  con- 
nection with  the  festival.  One  of  these  was  some  six 
centuries  ago.  A  priest  in  Bolsena,  who  was  somewhat 
sceptical  in  relation  to  the  vision  of  the  nun,  was  one 
day  engaged  in  preaching  his  scepticism  from  the  steps 
of  the  altar,  when  drops  of  blood  fell  upon  his  surplice, 
and  stained  it  in  a  most  peculiar  manner.  He  tried  to 
conceal  the  blood,  but  it  would  appear  on  the  outside, 
however  he  might  fold  his  robes.  In  wild  affright,  he 
fell  down  and  confessed  his  sin,  and  threw  oif  the  fear- 
ful vesture.  The  robe  is  kept  at  Civita  Vecchia,  that 
miserable,  dirty  little  town  on  the  coast,  and  is  shown 
at  the  annual  festival  with  much  carefulness. 

Well,  the  morning  of  Corpus  Christi  day  came, 
bright  and  beautiful,  the  Italian  sky  bending  its  soft 
arch  above  our  heads  as  we  went  out  to  see  the  show. 
The  streets  were  thronged  Avith  gay  and  animated 
crowds  of  people.  French  soldiers,  in  shining  uni- 
forms, were  moving  up  and  down  the  Corso ;  monks 
and  nuns,  friars  and  priests,  wending  their  way  towards 
the  venerable  and  sacred  edifice.  Falling  into  the  line 
of  carriages,  we  crossed  the  bridge,  by  St.  Angelo,  and 
soon  found  ourselves  in  front  of  St.  Peter's.  We  were 
fortunate  enough  to  secure  good  seats  under  the  colon- 
nade, through  which  the  procession  was  to  pass.  At 
eight  o'clock  precisely  the  stir  began,  the  first  rank 
emerging  from  the  door  of  the  Vatican  just  as  the  hour 
arrived.  Down  by  us  came  a  large  number  of  French 
soldiers,  with  stern  countenances,  and  Idbks  as  grave  as 
if  they  were  marching  to  the  field  of  death ;  next,  a 
company  of  the  famous  gens  d'armes,  with  their  long 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      405 

swords  clanking  by  their  sides,  and  their  iron  heels 
echoing  on  the  pavements ;  next,  several  hundreds  of 
boys,  who  are  being  educated  in  the  various  Catholic 
schools  and  monasteries,  wearing  white  robes,  and  carry- 
ing burning  candles,  and,  as  they  moved  on,  sending 
out  strains  of  music  from  their  young  lips,  deliciously 
wild  and  discordant ;  next  followed  the  friars,  white, 
gray,  and  black,  of  all  the  different  orders,  with  large 
wax  candles  burning  in  their  hands.  The  appearance 
of  these  monks  was  any  thing  but  pleasing.  Were  all 
our  prisons  raked  over,  or  the  ragged  school  of  London 
searched,  no  company  of  men  could  be  gathered  who 
would  exceed  these  in  base  looks  and  sinister  expres- 
sions. There  were  but  a  few  good-looking  men  among 
them.  The  wild  eye  of  vice  or  the  dull  look  of  indo- 
lence characterized  them  all.  Their  heads  were  shaven, 
their  beards  long  and  dirty,  their  feet  bare,  and  their 
robes  ragged  and  filthy.  As  they  moved  on  by  hun- 
dreds, they  made  the  colonnades  ring  with  their  sacred 
songs,  which  came  pealing  amid  the  majestic  columns 
in  a  chorus  wild  and  grand.  All  the  time  the  bells  in 
the  city  were  ringing  in  many  a  chime,  the  cannon  of 
St.  Angelo  were  thundering  over  the  Tiber,  and  mili- 
tary bands  were  sending  their  strains  over  the  gay  and 
brilliant  city.  Still  on  the  procession  came,  each  order 
of  monks  known  by  the  different  flags  and  devices 
which  they  carried.  The  order  of  San  Francisco  were 
the  most  miserable  set  of  human  beings  I  ever  saw  in 
ecclesiastical  habits.  Should  they  march  up  to  the  door 
of  any  one  of  our  poorhouses,  the  first  work  of  the 
keeper  would  be  to  souse  them  into  water,  and  wash 
away  their  filth*  The  Augustine  friars  looked  very  well. 
They  were  clean  and  tidy,  and  appeared  as  if  they  were 
well  fed.     Many  of  them  seemed  to  be  fine  singers,  and 


406  EUROPA. 

discoursed  sweet  music.  Beliind  the  friars  followed  the 
curates  and  priests  of  the  churches  in  and  around  the 
city.  These  were  better  looking  men,  well  dressed  in 
black  robes,  and  v/ithal  somewhat  portly.  Next,  a 
higher  grade  of  the  clergy;  then  the  senator  of  Rome, 
poor  representative  of  departed  glory,  and  with  him  the 
officers  of  state.  These  all  passed  along,  with  crosses, 
bells,  banners,  and  all  kinds  of  trinkets,  and  a  louder 
blast  of  trumpets  caused  us  to  stretch  our  necks  and 
•strain  our  eyes  for  the  next  scene  in  the  play,  when,  lo  ! 
a  sort  of  baby  traming-cap,  on  a  velvet  cushion,  made 
its  appearance.  It  looked  like  the  plaything  which 
was  put  on  Victoria's  head  in  Westmmster,  years  ago, 
a  very  pretty  ornament  for  a  gay,  unmarried  girl.  Then 
followed  another  hat,  still  more  gorgeous,  and  then  a 
third,  each  of  which  is  worn  by  the  pope  on  certain 
occasions.  The  people  reached  up,  gaped,  stared, 
and  looked  wondrous  wise,  as  these  toys  were  lost  in 
the  distance.  An  hour  was  thus  occupied,  when  the 
bell  of  the  Cathedral  announced  that  the  pope  was 
leaving  the  Vatican.  He  came  on,  preceded  by  liis  body 
guard  of  soldiers,  dressed  in  a  singular  uniform,  which 
gave  them  a  most  grotesque  appearance.  They  wear 
steel  helmets,  with  flowing  plumes;  frocks  of  blue, 
green,  white,  and  yellow  stripes ;  loose,  flowing  Bloomer 
trowsers,  similarly  striped;  stockings  striped  likewise. 
They  carry  halberds,  and  are  very  dashy  in  their  ap- 
pearance, as  you  may  imagine.  Around  the  pope  were 
gathered  the  cardinals,  with  blood-red  robes,  the  most 
appropriate  color  they  could  wear.  But  the  object  of 
all  interest  was  the  pontiff  himself,  who  was  borne  upon 
the  shoulders  of  ecclesiastics  of  high  -rank.  He  rode 
in  a  car  trimmed  with  gold,  and  decorated  with  span- 
gles.    Over  his  head  was  a  canopy  of  gilt  and  crimson. 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      407 

As  this  pretended  successor  of  St.  Peter  rode  along, 
witn  his  head  bowed  over  a  golden  crucifix,  and  his 
person  covered  almost  entirely  with  drapery,  the  undu- 
lating motion  reminded  me  of  the  awkward  figure  one 
makes  when  riding  on  the  back  of  an  unwieldy  ele- 
phant. His  holiness  is  a  good-looking  man,  in  the 
sixtieth  year  of  his  age,  having  been  born  in  1792. 
His  countenance  is  mild,  and  has  a  benevolent  expres- 
sion. There  appears,  however,  a  want  of  life  and  char- 
acter, and  no  one  would  mark  him  as  a  man  of  much 
ability  and  energy.  In  size,  rotundity,  cast  of  features, 
and  general  appearance,  the  pope  resembles  Dr.  M. 
(though  without  the  vivacity  of  countenance  which 
distmguishes  my  traveling  associate)  more  than  any 
man  I  ever  saw ;  and  did  not  the  pontiff  have  that  dull, 
leaden  look,  and  stooping  carriage,  which  are  not  at  all 
characteristic  of  my  friend,  one  might  be  taken  for  the 
other.  The  Romans  were  often  struck  with  the  resem- 
blance, and  with  a  good-natured  smile  would  look  into 
the  doctor's  face,  and  twitter  an  unintelligible  sen- 
tence, the  only  word  of  which  we  could  understand 
was  "papa." 

But  to  return  from  our  digression.  The  procession 
of  boys  and  men,  monks  and  priests,  bishops  and  cardi- 
nals, singing  and  praying,  groaning  and  shouting, 
moved  out  into  the  street,  and  up  through  the  piazza, 
in  front  of  the  church,  and  into  the  sacred  edifice, 
opening  to  the  right  and  left,  forming  lines,  through 
which  the  pope  was  to  pass.  Soon  he  came  ambling 
along  on  his  human  horses,  who  were  sweating  beneath 
the  burden.  At  the  foot  of  the  grand  altar  he  dis- 
mounted, very  much  as  a  person  pretty  well  frightened 
would  clamber  down  from  the  back  of  an  elephant. 
What  took  place  at  the  altar  I  do  not  know.    The  pope 


408  EUROPA. 

muttered ;  the  people  fell  on  their  faces ;  the  military 
men  threw  their  arms  down  with  a  clash  upon  the  pave- 
ments ;  the  pope  spread  his  hands,  and  gave  a  fatherly- 
benediction ;  and  men,  women,  boys,  girls,  priests, 
monks,  cardinals,  beggars,  thieves,  Italians,  Germans, 
French,  all  began  to  rush  out  of  the  cathedral  pell- 
mell,  crowding,  pushing,  running,  stopping,  swearing, 
praying,  all  in  one  delightful  jumble,  the  like  of  which 
I  never  saw  before.  Seeing  his  holiness  making  his 
way  towards  where  we  stood,  we  put  ourselves  in  a 
position  to  secure  a  most  favorable  view  of  his  counte- 
nance. When  he  arrived  at  the  spot  where  we  were, 
he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  spasm  of  affection ;  and 
turning  square  round,  he  spread  his  holy  hands,  and 
uttered  an  extra  blessing  on  us  poor  heretics.  I  was 
grateful,  not  so  much  for  the  benediction  as  for  the  fine 
view  of  his  sacred  person. 

With  the  crowd  we  rushed  out  of  the  church,  and  at 
the  door  met  and  shook  hands  with  Rev.  Mr.  Barry, 
who  had  recently  arrived  from  the  Holy  Land.  The 
sight  of  a  familiar  face  amid  those  strange  scenes  was 
truly  refreshing ;  and  though  our  interview  lasted  but 
a  few  minutes,  it  forms  a  little  green  spot  amid  the 
dashing  waves  of  that  tumultuous  day. 

In  Rome,  the  Catholic  religion  is  seen  in  all  its 
power  and  glory,  ay,  and  in  all  its  weakness  and  shame 
too.  There  is  no  government  here  to  interfere  with  the 
exercise  of  its  functions ;  there  are  no  heretical  sects  to 
deform  its  proportions,  and  hinder  its  advance.  Here 
are  its  throne,  its  palace  and  its  prison,  its  temple  and 
its  tower.  Italy  is  a  very  paradise  for  monks,  and  if 
she  is  not  cursed,  it  is  not  their  fault.  They  swarm 
like  locusts,  eat  bread  which  they  do  not  earn,  live  in 
houses  which  they  have  not  erected. 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH      409 

One  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  Roman- 
ism, as  it  is  seen  in  Italy,  is  its  imhlushing  ahsurdities. 
Wherever  you  go,  you  meet  with  some  marvelous  story 
which  bears  upon  its  face  every  sign  of  falsehood.  The 
religious  observances  are  mixed  up  with  the  most  dis- 
gusting nonsense,  of  which  a  reasonable  man  would  tire 
in  a  single  season ;  and  these  stories  are  told,  and  these 
services  are  performed,  by  men  who  know  their  perfect 
folly.  The  scene  which  I  have  described  is  one  which 
cannot  be  reviewed  without  awakening  in  the  mind  a 
feeling  of  horror  and  contempt  towards  its  principal 
actor.  An  old  man  bedecks  himself  in  tinsel  and  gold, 
and  rides  abroad  upon  the  shoulders  of  men,  the  repre- 
sentative of  one  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 
The  deluded  people  see  him  come,  and  fall  upon  their 
knees.  The  great  God  is  forgotten ;  a  mortal  sits  in 
his  place.  To  man  the  prayer  is  offered ;  from  man  the 
blessing  is  expected ;  and  the  infidelity  which  wrapped 
the  sun  of  France  in  clouds  is  not  more  blinded  than 
the  superstition  of  the  worshipers  of  Antichrist. 

The  holy  week  is  full  of  scenes  which  one  knows 
not  whether  to  consider  most  pitiable  or  ludicrous. 
"With  all  gravity,  ceremonies  are  performed  in  which 
the  great  and  learned  engage  with  apparent  delight  and 
devotion.  One  of  these  ceremonies  is  that  in  which 
the  pope  washes  the  feet  of  thirteen  men,  who  repre- 
sent the  twelve  apostles  and  the  base  betrayer.  Thir- 
teen men  are  chosen  who  will  best  represent  the  char- 
acters. Peter  is  personified  by  a  severe,  impulsive, 
energetic  old  man,  with  long,  flowing  beard;  John, 
by  a  young,  boyish-looking  man,  on  whose  fair  face  sit 
gentle  benignity  and  grace ;  Luke,  by  a  fine,  intel- 
lectual, noble-appearing  citizen ;  Judas,  by  a  dark,  sin- 
ister, malignant,  scowling  creature,  who  looks  the  very 
52  II 


410  EUROPA. 

j)icture  of  hate  and  revenge.  Some  of  the  thirteen  look 
as  if  they  were  just  from  the  fishers'  nets,  and  some  of 
them  from  the  seats  of  the  publicans. 

With  a  little  scented  water,  the  pope  goes  through 
the  form  of  washing  their  feet,  and  they  all  sit  down  to 
a  table  spread  with  food,  and  this  false  Christ  attends 
them,  and  hands  them  the  dishes  with  ineffable  grace. 
This  mock  service  is  performed  sometimes  in  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel,  and  immense  crowds  assemble  to  witness  it. 
The  pope  publicly  assumes  the  character  of  an  impostor, 
and  the  whole  ceremony  is  well  calculated  to  impress 
the  mind  with  the  utter  absurdity  and  the  unspeakable 
meanness  of  a  church  which  will,  in  the  midst  of  the 
light  of  our  day,  practice  such  a  rite. 

The  empty  form  of  climbing  the  Scala  Santa,  which 
is  done  by  thousands  of  poor,  wretched  pilgrims,  on 
their  blistered  knees,  with  the  vain  hope  that  it  will 
ease  the  guilty  conscience,  and  give  peace  to  the  trou- 
bled bosom,  is  also  ridiculous.  It  is  so  unlike  any 
thing  which  Christ  ever  enjoined  upon  his  disciples,  and 
so  unlike  any  thing  which  he  ever  practiced  himself,  and 
is  so  senseless  withal,  that  no  one  can  see  the  devotees 
toiling  up  the  steps  without  smiles  at  their  folly. 

Whoever  lives  in  Home  a  year  will  witness  a  round 
of  folly  which  Boodhism  never  equaled.  He  will  see 
the  Agnus  Dei  borne  from  house  to  house,  with  the  vain 
hope  that  it  will  save  the  sick  and  dying ;  he  will  attend 
the  feast  of  the  Annunciation,  and  hear  the  cry  of  the 
angels,  "  Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men ; "  he  will 
hear  and  see  the  celebration  of  Christi  3fissa,  or  the 
mass  which  commemorates  Immanuel's  birth;  he  will 
go  to  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  hear  the  wailings  of  the 
Miserere,  as  the  thirteen  emblematic  candles  are  put  out ; 
he  will  hear  all  the  bells  in  the  city  ringing  and  the 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      411 

cannon  of  St.  Angelo  thundering  over  the  Savior's 
resurrection ;  and  will  be  called  each  day  to  celebrate 
the  festival  of  some  saint,  to  rejoice  over  the  perform- 
ance of  some  miracle,  and  exult  in  the  triumph  of  some 
new  superstition. 

The  absurdities  of  Romanism  are  seen  also  in  the 
relics  which  abound  in  Italy,  and  the  blasphemous  use 
which  is  made  of  them  in  this  and  all  other  countries. 
One  traveler,  while  going  down  into  Italy,  found,  in 
the  cave  of  some  of  the  monks,  an  outline  of  the  foot 
of  the  Virgin  Mary,  which  was  accompanied  by  the  fol- 
lowing curious  document,  which  he  translated  for  the 
benefit  of  heretics  :  — 

"  All  hail,  Mary,  Most  Sacred  Virgin  Mother  of  God. 

"Correct  measure  of  the  foot  of  the  most  blessed 
Virgin  Mother  of  God,  cast  from  her  own  shoe,  which 
is  preserved  with  great  devotion  in  the  monastery 
of  Spain.  Poxdc  John  XXII.  granted  three  hundred 
years  of  indulgence  to  w^homsoever  should  kiss  three 
times  this  measure,  and  recite  the  '  Ave  Maria,''  which 
was  also  confirmed  by  Pope  Clement  VIII.,  in  the  year 
of  our  Eedemption  1603.  This  indulgence  not  being 
limited,  one  can  obtain,  as  often  as  he  wishes,  the  aid 
of  the  Most  Sacred  Virgin.  It  can  also  be  applied  to 
spirits  in  purgatory ;  and,  for  the  greater  glory  of  the 
Queen  of  Heaven,  it  is  permitted  to  take  from  this  meas- 
ure other  similar  measures,  all  of  which  shall  bestow 
the  same  indulgence. 

"  Mary,  Mother  of  God,  pray  for  us." 

Five  or  six  years  ago,  in  Treves,  a  German  city,  the 
Romish  cause  getting  low,  Arnold,  the  bishop,  got  an 
old  piece  of  cloth,  which  he  called  the  seamless  coat  of 
Jesus,  and  on  various  occasions  multitudes  came  from 
aU  parts  of  the  German  states  to  see  and  worship  this 


412  EUROPA. 

interesting  relic.  The  iDishop  held  it  up,  the  choir 
chanted  melancholy  lays.  The  whole  throng  fell  down 
on  their  faces,  and  cried,  "  Holy  coat,  pray  for  us ! " 
"  Holy  coat,  we  worship  thee ! "  "  Holy  coat,  thou  art 
life ! "  "  Holy  coat,  our  hope,  our  hope !  "  The  descrip- 
tion given  of  this  relic,  by  Catholics,  is  quite  amusing. 

One  says,  "Its  thread  is  so  fine,  and  so  strongly 
blended,  that  the  eye  cannot  see  whether  it  is  woven  or 
wrought  with  the  needle."  Another  says,  "The  eye  can 
scarcely  recognize  the  color ;  sometimes  it  is  purple  red, 
sometimes  a  beautiful  blue ;  at  other  times  it  has  the 
color  of  the  yellow  lily.  An  extraordinary  emotion 
seizes  those  who  look  at  it ;  sometimes  they  contemplate 
it  with  love;  sometimes  they  suddenly  look  abashed, 
seized  with  fear  and  respect.  It  seems  that  a  divine 
vii-tue  dwells  in  tliis  robe."  "  Masenius  gives  the  exact 
measurement.  It  is  Im.  76  in  length,  Im.  16  in  breadth. 
On  the  top  there  is  an  opening  to  admit  the  head." 

The  history  of  this  relic,  as  given  by  Eomanists,  is  as 
curious  as  the  description.     It  is  like  this :  — 

"  At  the  crucifixion,  the  coat  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  Ro- 
man soldier,  who  sold  it  to  John  and  the  women  who 
were  at  the  cross.  It  was  thus  concealed  in  the  holy 
family  and  their  descendants  during  the  whole  period 
of  the  persecutions,  until  its  very  existence  became  a 
secret.  It  remained  hid  for  nearly  three  hundred  years, 
until  the  ascendency  of  Constantine,  when  the  Empress 
Helena  visited  Palestine  in  326,  searching  for  relics,  to 
quicken  the  faith  of  proselytes  at  home.  Among  other 
discoveries,  she  brought  from  its  concealment  the  holy- 
robe  without  seam,  the  mystic  symbol  of  the  indivisi- 
bility of  the  church ;  and,  on  her  return,  is  said  to  have 
deposited  it  in  the  church  of  Treves. 

"To  this  period  succeeds  a  chasm  of  (ight  hundred 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHUUCH.      413 

years,  during  which  the  tunic  was  hidden  from  view. 
What  became  of  it  none  can  tell.  It  was  not  till  the 
year  1196  that  it  was  again  discovered  and  exposed.  It 
then  remained  hidden  again  until  1512,  when  it  was 
exhibited  at  the  request  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian. 
Since  then  it  has  been  displayed  nine  times ;  the  last 
time  in  1810,  for  nineteen  days,  when  two  hundred  and 
twenty-seven  thousand  strangers  visited  it.  At  each 
of  these  exhibitions,  the  most  astonishing  miracles,  to 
which  all  the  wonders  of  sacred  story  bear  no  compar- 
ison, were  performed  by  the  coat,  all  of  which  are  ex- 
ultingly  recorded,  and  form  a  gross  and  revolting  history 
of  imposture  and  superstition.  At  times  the  robe  has 
had  great  popularity  as  a  relic :  Pope  Leo  X.  granted  a 
plenary  indulgence  —  that  is,  license  to  commit  any  sin 
they  please  —  to  all  who  should  adore  it." 

The  miracles  performed  by  this  coat,  recorded  by 
Catholic  historians,  are  as  follows:  — 

"  The  Countess  Jane  Drost  Vischering  had  a  painful 
contraction  of  the  left  leg,  rendering  the  use  of  crutches 
necessary,  which  had  existed  for  many  years  in  spite  of 
the  best  medical  aid.  She  visited  the  cathedral,  knelt 
before  the  tunic,  touched  it,  and  rose  and  walked  off 
without  her  crutches,  entirely  free  from  her  disease! 
Her  crutches  still  hang  in  the  cathedral  as  a  testimony 
of  her  miraculous  cure,  and  of  the  wonderful  efficacy 
of  the  tunic  ! 

"  Matthew  Weiler,  a  peasant,  had  been  sick  for  two 
years,  experiencing  the  most  excruciating  pains  in  the 
.whole  length  of  his  left  leg,  which  was  in  consequence 
contracted  double.  He  was  carried  to  the  cathedral, 
and,  while  worshiping  the  tunic,  felt  a  change  in  his 
limb,  and  immediately  straightened  it,  and  walked  off 
like  a  grenadier !     About  the  same  time,  a  daughter  of 

•    II* 


414  EUROPA. 

John  Schell,  a  child  of  twelve  years  of  age,  who  also 
had  a  contraction  of  her  limbs,  came  near  the  relic,  and 
felt  instantly  her  leg  stretch  out ;  and  she  walked  away 
without  her  crutches  or  any  support ! 

"  Widow  Catharine  Petsch  had  a  cerebral  affection, 
which  deprived  her  of  the  use  of  speech,  and  of  the 
limbs  of  her  right  side,  so  that  all  sensibility  was  de- 
stroyed. This  continued  for  five  months.  She  also  was 
carried  in  a  state  of  insensibility  to  the  tunic,  and  in- 
stantly, on  reaching  it,  cried,  '  O  God !  O  Savior ! '  rose, 
completely  cured,  and  left  the  cathedral  without  any 
support ! 

"  Anna  Josephine  Wagner  was  cured  of  epilepsy  by 
one  single  touch.  Catharine  Drolait,  aged  twenty-four, 
was  cured  of  the  palsy.  She  was  carried  to  the  tunic ; 
and,  according  to  the  certified  account,  when  she 
touched  it,  she  cried  out,  with  a  loud  voice,  '  Good 
God !  how  that  cracks  in  my  knee ! '  and  fell  in  a 
swoon,  from  which  she  awoke  perfectly  cured  !  Apol- 
lonia  Porn,  aged  nine  years,  was  cured  of  rickets  on 
the  21st  of  September!  A  child,  who  had  been  blind 
of  an  eye  by  falling  on  a  sickle,  suddenly  recovered  the 
sight  of  the  eye  which  was  lost !  Susannah  Muller  was 
cured  of  articular  gout,  which,  for  six  months,  had  not 
permitted  her  to  be  an  hour  out  of  bed !  Regina  Mor- 
scheidt  was  cured  of  aphonia.  James  Heing,  who  had 
been  made  dumb  by  a  fever,  was  restored." 

It  was  the  blind  idolatry  of  the  people  who  wor- 
shiped this  old  coat,  which  Arnold  had  stolen  from  the 
scanty  wardrobe  of  some  poor  pauper,  which  stirred  the 
heart  of  John  Ronge,  one  of  his  priests,  who,  like 
Luther,  rose  up  in  indignation,  and  branded  the  church 
as  an  impostor,  and  Arnold  as  the  priest  of  imposition 

Were  these  relics  reverenced  by  the  poor,  degraded 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      415 

monks  alone,  we  should  not  charge  the  church  with 
absurdity  on  their  account.  But  the  seamless  coat  and 
the  Virgin's  slipper  are  shown  by  the  bishops,  and  the 
exhibition  is  sanctioned  by  the  authorities  at  Rome. 
At  the  very  word  of  the  pope  himself,  thousands  fall 
down  before  the  napkin,  the  cross,  and  the  spear,  which 
are  preserved  in  St.  Peter's,  and  the  whole  Papal  hier- 
archy say  "Amen." 

One  who  was  on  the  ground  when  the  holy  coat  was 
worshiped,  and  who  was  acquainted  with  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, gives  a  description  of  the  interest  taken  in 
this  imposition :  — 

"  On  the  18th  of  August,  the  Bishop  of  Treves  per- 
formed mass  in  his  pontifical  robes,  and  afterwards 
exhibited  the  seamless  coat.  All  the  parishes  in  the 
city  made  a  pompous  procession.  The  civil  and  mili- 
tary authorities,  the  students  of  college,  the  school 
children,  the  mechanics,  the  tradesmen,  ail  attended. 
In  the  evening  the  houses  were  illuminated.  The  sol- 
diers w^ere  led  by  their  officers  before  the  relic,  with 
their  colors  lowered.  Three  hundred  prisoners  asked 
leave  to  \isit  the  holy  garment,  and  they  came  with 
great  gravity  and  compunction.  During  the  whole 
exhibition,  the  cathedral  was  open  from  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning  till  eight  o'clock  at  night,  and  it  was  con- 
stantly filled  with  an  immense  crowd. 

"  Pilgrims  came  from  all  countries,  chiefly  from  Ger- 
many and  the  eastern  frontiers  of  France.  They  were 
for  the  most  part  peasants,  who,  with  their  vicar  at 
their  head,  flocked  to  this  pagan  spectacle.  The  city 
of  Treves  presented  during  the  exhibition  a  lively 
scene.  In  all  the  streets  and  public  places,  processions 
were  continually  passing.  Ordmarily,  the  pilgrims 
marched  two  and  two,  and  chanted  a  monotonous  lit- 


416  EUROPA. 

any.  All  the  hotels  were  crowded.  Extensive  wooden 
barracks  were  erected  at  the  gates  of  the  city,  and 
there,  for  a  penny  or  two  a  head,  the  pilgrims  found  a 
little  straw  to  lie  upon.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
the  noise  began  again,  and  continued  till  a  very  ad- 
vanced hour  of  the  night.  Playactors  of  all  sorts 
established  themselves  at  Treves ;  every  day  several 
theaters  were  opened  to  amuse  the  strangers.  There 
were  panoramas,  dioramas,  menageries,  puppet  shows  — 
all  the  diversions  which  are  found  in  France  at  fairs. 
Every  where  mirth  and  revelry  abounded,  wholly  un- 
like the  composed  and  pious  feelings  inspired  by  the 
performance  of  a  religious  duty. 

"  Let  us  noAv  accompany  the  pilgrims  to  the  cathedral. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  nave,  on  an  altar  brilliantly  light- 
ed, is  the  relic,  in  a  golden  box.  Steps  placed  at  each 
side  lead  to  it.  The  pilgrims  approach,  mount  the 
steps,  and  pass  their  hand  through  an  oval  a^Derture  in 
the  box,  to  touch  the  coat  of  the  Lord.  Two  priests, 
seated  near  the  relic,  receive  the  chaplets,  medals,  hoods, 
and  other  articles  of  the  faithful,  and  put  them  in  con- 
tact with  the  marvelous  coat,  because  mere  contact  is  a 
means  of  blessing.  Objects  which  have  thus  touched 
the  relic  are  consecrated,  sanctified ;  they  then  become 
holy  chaplets,  holy  medals,  &c. ;  and  after  this  ceremony 
the  joilgrims  go  away  rejoicing,  thmking  they  have  ac- 
quired the  remission  of  all  their  sins.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  this  exhibition  was  distinguished  by  numerous 
miracles.  Has  not  Rome  miracles  always  at  her  ser- 
vice? Is  not  her  whole  history  filled  with  striking 
prodigies  1 

"  This  exhibition,  of  course,  brought  a  great  deal  of 
money  to  the  priests.  This  is  the  true  explanation  of 
the  riddle.     It  is  estimated  that  the  offerings  of  the 


riUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      417 

faithful  amounted  to  five  hundred  thousand  francs  (one 
hundred  thousand  dollars)  m  the  space  of  six  weeks, 
without  reckoning  the  eighty  thousand  medals  of  the 
Virgin,  which  were  sold,  and  the  profits  from  the  sale 
of  chaplets  and  other  objects  of  devotion.  Even  now, 
in  all  the  towns  of  France,  the  priests  employ  persons, 
particularly  women,  to  sell  at  an  exorbitant  price  a 
thousand  petty  articles  which  have  touched  the  holy 
coat !  such  as  ribins,  bits  of  cloth,  cotton  and  silk, 
some  of  which  are  shaped  like  the  coat,  besides  cruci- 
fixes and  images,  in  wood  or  in  glass.  The  clergy  have 
monopohzed  all  the  old  rags  of  the  neighborhood  of 
Treves,  and  sell  them  for  their  weight  in  gold;  and 
they  find  dupes  weak  enough  to  purchase  these  amu- 
lets !  The  product  of  this  trafiic,  added  to  the  offerings 
of  the  pilgrims,  will  be  perhaps  from  one  to  two  mil- 
lions of  francs." 

Another  striking  characteristic  of  the  Romish  church 
is  its  wretched  intolerance.  This  is  not  clearly  seen  in 
America,  for  here  she  has  but  little  power,  and  thus 
far  she  has  secured  no  hold  upon  native-born  Ameri- 
cans. Any  disiolay  of  a  persecuting  spirit  would  destroy 
its  own  purpose,  and  defeat  its  own  efforts.  The  priests 
practice  their  rites  and  exercise  dominion  only  within 
their  own  borders.  In  England,  the  cloven  foot  is  seen 
a  little  more  distinctly,  and  the  church  is  more  arrogant 
and  pretending.  In  France  she  takes  still  greater  lib- 
erties, and  since  that  monster  of  wickedness,  Louis 
Napoleon,  has  trampled  down  the  constitution,  has  es- 
tablished herself  in  her  own  peculiar  Avay.  But  to 
know  Romanism,  one  must  see  Rome ;  he  must  travel 
down  through  Italy,  the  seat  and  head-quarters  of 
Popery,  and  learn  what  this  false  church  is  when 
uncontrolled  by  Protestant  influences.  He  will  find, 
53 


418  EUROPA. 

within  the  walls  of  the  Eternal  City,  the  press  under 
restrictions  unknown  in  any  other  city  in  the  world, 
the  Bible  a  proscribed  book,  the  rights  of  conscience 
denied  to  man,  and  the  whole  people  in  the.  most  ab- 
ject slavery.  He  will  find  the  dark,  blood-sprinkled 
cells  of  the  Inquisition,  and  the  dungeons  of  old 
St.  Angelo,  full  of  prisoners  confined  for  conscience' 
sake ;  and  could  he  explore  the  cloisters  of  the  monks 
and  the  deep  places  in  private  edifices,  he  would  doubt- 
less find  traces  of  as  foul  a  system  of  wrong  as  was 
ever  known  beneath  the  sun.  The  intolerance  of  the 
Romish  church  is  seen  in  all  her  dealings  with  man- 
kind. She  has  claimed  the  right  to  tread  upon  the 
neck  of  princes  and  kings ;  she  has  taught  her  disciples 
to  break  faith  with  heretics ;  she  has  refused  permission 
for  other  religions  to  be  taught  in  her  dominions,  and 
has  at  all  times  displayed  a  spirit  of  arrogance  and 
oppression.  At  the  present  moment,  many  of  her  illus- 
trious sons  are  exiles,  wandering  up  and  down  the  earth 
to  escape  the  vengeance  of  the  wily  and  crafty  priest- 
hood. A  man  cannot  utter  his  opinions  freely  in  Rome. 
The  fear  of  chains  and  imprisonment  is  ever  before 
him ;  and  if,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  he  breaks  forth 
in  honest  abhorrence  at  the  crimes  and  woes  which 
abound,  a  secret  police  hunts  him  out,  tracks  him  to  his 
abode,  and  drags  him  away,  to  torture  or  to  death.  I 
do  not  affirm  that  Pio  None  is  wholly  an  intolerant 
man,  or  that  every  cardinal  is  an  ambitious  tyrant,  or 
that  every  priest  is  a  crafty  villain.  Pius  is  probably  a 
kind,  well-meaning,  but  weak  and  inefficient  pontiff'. 
His  history  proves  him  to  be  friendly  to  the  minor 
reforms ;  and  could  he  reign  alone,  he  would  doubtless 
do  something  to  relieve  the  woes  of  his  subjects.  Some 
of  the  cardinals  are  worthy,  generous-minded  men,  who 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      419 

are  whol  .y  averse  to  oppression ;  some  of  the  priests 
are  honest,  worthy,  and  perhaps  I  may  say  pious,  striv- 
ing to  do  good.  I  hope  there  is  many  an  A  Kempis 
and  many  a  Fenelon  yet  left  in  Rome,  who  will  forsake 
her  altars  when  the  cry  is  heard,  "  Come  out  of  her,  my 
people."  But  this  pope  is  the  head,  and  those  cardi 
nals  and  priests  rule  over  an  intolerant  church.  It 
lives  by  its  intolerance ;  and  when  its  intolerant  spirit 
is  gone  or  broken,  there  will  be  an  end  of  the  church. 
The  pope  cannot  begin  to  reform  without  reforming 
himself  out  of  the  episcopal  office.  His  throne  is  built 
on  perverted  justice  and  monstrous  wrongs,  and  every 
blow  he  strikes  for  progress  falls  upon  himself  I 
would  give  the  pope  all  the  credit  which  he  deserves 
for  his  good  intentions  and  his  good  moral  character. 
He  is  not,  as  Vvere  some  of  his  predecessors,  addicted  to 
vice  of  all  descriptions,  from  the  little  petty  acts  of  a 
friar  to  unblushing  adultery  and  murder ;  but  whoever 
hopes  any  thing  from  him  for  freedom,  will  hope  in 
vain.  There  was  a  time  when  hope  was  kindled,  and 
men  turned  to  Pius  as  the  political  regenerator  of  Italy. 
A  company  of  cosy  old  gentlemen  in  our  country  as- 
sembled and  voted  him  a  complimentary  address,  and 
in  their  enthusiasm  dreamed  that  the  long,  dark  night 
of  Popish  oppression  was  ended.  But  the  pope  turned 
the  cold  shoulder  upon  his  new  friends,  and  coolly  in- 
formed the  world,  that  whoever  expected  him  to  do  any 
thing  to  curtail  the  power  of  the  Romish  see  would  be 
mistaken.  From  that  time,  Pio  None  has  been  rolling 
back  the  car  of  reform,  doing  penance  for  the  few  gen- 
erous acts  with  which  he  commenced  his  pontificate, 
until  he  is  nearly  as  much  detested  by  all  the  patriots 
as  was  Gregory  XVI.  What  he  has  not  done  which  u 
tyrant  is  able  and  willing  to  do,  no  living  man  can  tell. 


420  EUROPA. 

He  has  condemned  the  right  of  private  judgment ;  he 
has  uttered  his  anathemas  against  Bibles  and  Bible 
societies ;  he  has  bewailed  the  writing  and  printing  of 
books,  and  the  progress  of  knowledge ;  he  has  declared 
that  "beyond  the  Catholic  church  there  is  no  salva- 
tion ;  "  he  has  turned  over  all  heretics  to  plagues  of  the 
body  and  torments  of  the  soul ;  the  saints  he  has  shut 
up  in  prison,  and  haling  men  and  women,  he  has  put 
them  to  death.  What  more  could  a  tyrant  do  than 
Pius  IX.  has  done  1  His  friends  may  urge  that  he  is  the 
blind  tool  of  designing  men,  such  as  Lambruschini,  and 
is  forced  into  oppressive  measures  by  his  ambitious  and 
intriguing  cardinals ;  but  there  he  is,  sitting  in  the 
place  of  God,  with  his  iron  heel  upon  the  liberty  of 
conscience,  the  freedom  of  the  press,  and  the  Holy 
Scriptures ;  and  the  church  sustains  him.  Not  a  voice 
comes  out  from  the  polluted  lips  of  the  Mother  of 
Abominations  in  remonstrance.  In  England,  Cardinal 
Wiseman  and  the  apostate  Newman  defend  him ;  in 
France,  the  Papal  priests  and  presses  declare  that  the 
holy  father  is  right,  and  justify  even  the  torture  and 
murder  of  those  who  oppose  his  authority;  in  Ger- 
many and  Austria,  the  most  oppressive  enactments  of 
corrupt  courts  meet  with  a  ready  response ;  while  in 
America,  Bishop  Hughes,  at  the  head  of  his  clergy, 
unblushingly  declares  that  the  pope  is  right  in  sup- 
pressing the  Protestant  religion  in  Pome,  and  that 
Protestants  have  no  right  to  expect  toleration  at  his 
hands ;  and  Orestes  A.  Brownson,  ready  to  plunge  yet 
deeper  than  his  priest  into  the  pit  of  intolerance, 
styles  the  patriots  of  Italy  who  forced  a  constitution, 
such  as  it  was,  from  the  pope,  and  who  were  led  on  by 
such  pure  men  as  Mazzini,  "  the  liberals,"  "  miscreants," 
"  spawn  of  hell,"  men  who  are  "  doing  their  best  to 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      421 

desolate  Europe,  and  rcplunge  the  nations,  civilized  by 
Christianity,  into  the  darkness  of  barbarism."  He  de- 
clares them  to  be  "  deserving  of  the  execration  of  every 
man  who  has  a  human  heart  under  his  left  breast."  ^ 
Those  who  sympathize  with  these  Italian  patriots  he 
styles  "  stupid  dolts,  who  throw  up  their  greasy  caps, 
and  cheer  them  on  with  loud  hurrahs."  He  defends  the 
Jesuits,  that  order  of  monks  and  priests  who  are  feared 
and  hated  more  justly,  by  all  good  men  in  Europe, 
than  are  the  lazzaroni  of  the  city  or  the  banditti  of 
the  mountain.  He  stands  up  in  our  midst  and  ridi- 
cules our  institutions,  which  protect  him  in  his  very 
abuse  of  them ;  he  goes  abroad  and  defames  our  society, 
misrepresents  our  conditions,  and  ridicules  our  laws. 

The  Catholic  religion  would  be  a  most  amusing  x^lay, 
were  it  not  for  its  intolerance  and  persecutions.  There 
is  so  much  of  it  which  is  perfectly  absurd  and  laugh- 
able, that  one  can  scarcely  feel  serious  while  speaking 
about  it.  You  have  heard  of  the  poor  monk  who  had 
stained  himself  with  fearful  crimes,  and  who  went  to 
the  priest  to  confess.  As  he  approached  the  confes- 
sional, he  said, — 

"  Holy  father,  I  have  sinned." 

The  priest  bade  him  kneel  before  the  penitential  chair. 
The  penitent  was  -looking  about,  and  saw  the  priest's 
gold  watch  lying  upon  the  table,  within  his  reach. 
He  seized  it,  and  put  it  in  his  bosom.  The  priest  ap- 
proached, and  requested  him  to  acknowledge  the  sins 
for  which  he  wished  absolution. 

"  Father,"  said  the  penitent,  "  I  have  stolen,  and  what 
shall  I  doV 

"  Restore,"  said  the  priest,  "  the  thing  you  have  stolen 
to  its  rightful  owner." 

'  Brownson'a  Quarterly  Review. 

JJ 


422  EUROPA. 

"  Do  yo  1  take  it,"  said  the  penitent. 

"  No,  I  shall  not,"  said  the  priest ;  "  you  must  give  it 
to  the  owner." 

"  But,"  said  the  thief,  "  he  has  refused  to  take  it." 

"  If  this  be  the  case,  you  may  keep  it,"  said  the 
priest ;  and  he  absolved  him  from  all  his  sins,  and  gave 
him  the  blessing;  and  the  penitent  v^ent  out  with  a 
clear  conscience  in  his  bosom,  and  the  priesfs  watch  in 
his  pocket 

We  are  told  an  amusing  story  of  a  case  of  Popish 
juggling  in  Ireland,  in  which  the  church  was  com- 
pletely outwitted.  A  man  died,  and  his  widow  was 
told  by  her  priest  that  his  soul  was  in  purgatory,  and 
could  be  released  only  upon  the  saying  of  a  number  of 
masses,  which  he  would  do  only  on  condition  that  she 
would  give  him  her  cow,  which  was  almost  all  her  liv- 
ing. For  a  long  time  she  hesitated  between  duty  to 
her  children  and  the  desire  to  release  her  husband  from 
the  flames  of  purgatory.  At  length,  her  love  for  her 
departed  companion  prevailed,  and  she  ordered  her  two 
bright  little  boys  to  drive  the  cow  to  the  house  of  the 
priest.  As  they  drove  her  along,  weeping  over  the 
sacrifice  they  were  about  to  make,  for  they  were  poor, 
the  priest  tried  to  encourage  them. 

"  Well  done ;  you  are  good  boys ;  drive  cheerily,  for 
your  father's  soul  is  out  of  hell,  and  the  devil  can  never 
get  him  back  again." 

" Do  you  hear  that,  Jim?  "  said  the  older  boy  to  his 
brother ;  "  the  priest  says  father  is  safe  out  of  purga- 
tory, and  the  devil  can  never  get  him  back  again ;  run 
along  and  head  the  cow,  and  drive  her  back,  for  all  is 
right  now." 

Quickly  the  cow  was  wheeled  about,  amid  the  curses 
of  the  priest,  and  the  boys  drove  her  home  again,  to 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHUUCH.      423 

the  great  delight  of  the  mother,  who,  througli  the  wit 
of  her  children,  had  delivered  her  husband  from  tor- 
ment, and  saved  her  property. 

From  the  short  stay  which  I  made  in  Italy,  and  from 
the  most  authentic  accounts,  given  both  by  Protestants 
and  Romanists,  of  the  condition  of  that  country,  I  can- 
not but  believe  that  the  church  has  a  weak  hold  upon 
the  minds  of  thousands,  who  would  cast  away  the  chains 
which  are  on  them,  did  an  opportunity  occur.  Light  is 
streaming  over  the  dark  walls  of  Rome,  and  illuminat- 
ing the  habitations  of  the  people.  The  masses  of  the 
nation  are  ignorant,  bigoted,  and  superstitious,  and  yet 
are  open  to  conviction,  to  a  greater  extent  than  Papists 
in  our  land.  Could  light  penetrate,  they  would  hail  it ; 
could  a  fire  be  kindled,  they  would  feel  its  warmth. 

That  Rome  is  ready  to  give  up  the  Catholic  religion, 
none  would  affirm ;  and  yet  a  single  newspaper,  well  con- 
ducted, a  single  Protestant  church,  with  a  pious  preacher, 
a  single  missionary  distributing  tracts  and  Bibles  from 
house  to  house,  would,  in  five  years,  produce  a  change 
which  would  make  the  throne  of  Pius  IX.  tremble,  and 
astonish  the  whole  Christian  world.  I  know  of  no  spot 
in  the  world  so  favorable  for  the  conversion  of  Roman- 
ists as  Rome  itself. 

The  church  of  Rome  has  not  changed;  she  is  the 
same  now  as  she  was  in  other  days,  when,  at  her  behest, 
blood  flowed  in  torrents.  She  is  less  open,  more  Jesuit- 
ical now  than  formerly,  because  she  has  less  power  over 
kings  and  emperors.  But  her  bloody  spirit  remains  the 
same.  Not  one  of  her  acts  of  persecution  has  she  dis- 
avowed ;  but,  up  to  this  hour,  every  scene  of  crime 
committed  under  her  sanctity  she  has  defended.  When 
it  was  announced  in  Rome  that  the  streets  of  France 
were  deluged  with  Protestant  blood,  that  wicked  city 


424  EUKOPA. 

echoed  with  joy  at  the  dreadful  intelligence  that  the 
massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's  day  had  taken  place. 
So  strongly  did  the  church  —  O,  shame  !  —  commend 
this  scene  of  crime,  that  a  coin  was  struck,  on  one 
side  of  which  was  the  figure  of  an  angel,  with  a  cross 
in  his  hand,  and  a  sword,  the  emblem  of  persecution. 
Besides  this,  there  are  men,  and  women,  and  children 
wounded,  weltering  in  blood,  and  all  the  dreadful  ap- 
pendages to  this  scene  of  wo,  while  over  the  whole  is  the 
inscription,  "  Strages  Hugiienotonim,''  ( The  slaughter 
of  the  Huguenots.)  On  the  other  side  is  the  name  of 
the  pope  who  linked  his  title  with  the  crimes  of  that 
terrible  night  —  "  Gregorius  XIII.,  Pontifex  Maximusy 

How,  since  then,  has  the  church  of  Rome  changed  ? 
Let  us  see.  When  the  news  of  the  famous  coup  d'etat 
reached  the  Eternal  City,  and  it  was  known  that  Louis 
Napoleon  had  broken  down  the  constitution  and  the 
laws,  that  blood  was  flowing  in  torrents,  that  the  Cath- 
olic church  was  laying  her  beams  wider  in  the  blood  of 
men,  —  intelligence  at  which  all  the  world  but  Eome 
recoiled,  —  that  city  was  illuminated,  Pius  IX.  said 
high  mass,  and  a  jubilee  was  held  throughout  the  Papal 
dominion  —  the  jubilee  of  hell,  whose  echo  was  caught 
up  and  rolled  along  our  shores,  and  thundered  forth  in 
triumph  from  every  church  on  which  is  seen  the  dead 
crucifix  of  Romanism.  And  if  the  work  had  been  more 
complete,  —  if  M.  Coquerel  and  Adolpli  Monod  had 
met  the  fate  of  Coligny,  we  might  have  had  a  new 
coin,  with  its  terrible  inscription,  "  Strages  Huguenoto- 
rum ; "  and  on  the  reverse,  the  portrait  of  Mastai  Fe- 
retti,  with  his  leaden  look,  and  under  it,  or  over  it,  his 
assumed  title,  Pius  IX. 

In  this  country,  if  we  charge  the  church  with  intol- 
erance, and  cruelty,  and  absurdity,  we  are  accused  of 


riUS  IX.  AND  THK  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      425 

falsehood ;  but  in  Rome,  a  faithful  minister  could  point 
to  the  Inquisition,  and  say,  "  There,  in  that  edifice,  are 
the  evidences  that  your  religion  is  not  of  God  ;  there  are 
the  proofs  of  its  hatred  and  revenge;  there, is  the  stu- 
pendous monument  of  its  shame  and  crime."  And  not 
a  man  would  dare  say,  "  It  is  not  true."  He  could 
point  to  the  shameful  lives  of  the  popes  ;  the  unblush- 
ing licentiousness  of  the  priesthood ;  the  ignorant  du- 
plicity of  monastic  life ;  and  say,  "  These  are  not  of  ; 
God ;  the  religion  which  supports  them  is  not  of  God." 
None  could  reply.  These  sober  facts  no  sophistry  can 
elude ;  and  could  they  be  shown  up,  and  discussed  by 
the  people  of  Rome,  who  already  know  them,  they 
would  hurl  the  throne  of  St.  Peter  over  into  the  Tiber.^ 
And  the  day  is  coming.  The  eyes  are  already  open 
which  will  see  it.  The  present  pope  is  not  secure. 
Once  he  has  been  driven  from  the  Vatican  ;  and  to-day 
is  sustained  in  Rome  by  the  bayonets  of  foreign  armies. 
The  usurpation  of  Louis  Napoleon,  the  "  prince  pres- 
ident," as  he  calls  himself,  has  darkened  the  prospect 


1  A   work,  called  Taxa  Camarce  For  him  who,  in  a  criminal 
Apostolicfe,     was  some    years    ago  cause,  takes  a  false  £.  s.    d. 
published  in  Rome,  and  republished  oath,       .....090 
in  Paris,  Venice,  Lyons,  and  several  "   a  man  or  woman  that  is 
other  Papal  cities,  in  which  were  the  found    hanged,   that 
fines  demanded  by  the  priests  for  ab-  they  may  have  Chris- 
solution  from  various  crimes.     The  tian  burial,      ...  1     7     6 
work  was  published  by  authority  of  "  a  man  to  change  his  vow,  0  15     0 
Pope  Innocent  III.     The  following  To  eat  flesh  and  white  meats 
is  a  specimen :  —  in    Lent  and    other 
For  a  layman  for  murdering  £.  s.    d.  fasting  days,    .     .     .  0  10     6 
a  layman,   ....  0     7     6  To  go  into  a  nunnery  alone,  0  18     0 
"  him  that  hath  killed  his  For  the  remission  of  a  thkd 

father, 0  10     6  part  of  one's  sins,     .  7  10     0 

"  him  that  hath  killed  his  How   easily   could  a  pious    man 

mother, 0  10     6  show  that  such  a  system  is  an  abom- 

"   him  that  hath  killed  his  inable  outrage  !     Here  it  is  a  greatei 

wife, 0  10     G  sin  to  eat  flesh  during  Lent  than  to 

"   a   priest  or   clergyman  commit  murder  ;  to  go  into  a  nunnery 

that  keeps  a  concu-  alone  than   to  commit  adultery.     O, 

bine, 0  10    6  shame  ! 

54  JJ  * 


426  EUROPA. 

of  an  immediate  change,  and  strengthened  the  hands 
of  the  pope  ;  but  the  "  glorious  time  is  rolling  on,"  and 
the  day  cannot  be  far  distant  when  the  predictions  of 
Scripture,  with  reference  to  the  false  church,  must  be 
realized.  Her  recent  usurpations  have  weakened  her 
cause  in  England,  and  opened  the  eyes  of  the  people  to 
her  intolerant  and  aggressive  spirit.  Her  triumphs  in 
France  will  only  give  new  power  to  the  preaching  of 
Protestants.  While  Adolph  and  Frederick  Monod  are 
allowed  to  preach  in  Paris,  the  night  will  not  be  very 
dark.  In  America,  her  converts  are  almost  entirely 
from  the  ranks  of  the  ignorant  paupers  who  are  being 
emptied  upon  our  shores  from  the  almshouses  of  Europe. 
I  found,  while  in  England  and  in  France,  that  an  idea 
existed  that  conversions  were  being  made  in  intelligent 
families,  and  among  men  of  office  and  honor,  who  are 
native-born  Americans ;  but  this  is  not  a  fact,  as  the  sta- 
tistics of  Popery  will  show.  Our  country  is,  indeed, 
filling  up  with  Catholics  from  foreign  countries  ;  but  if 
I  do  not  mistake,  the  American  branch  of  the  church  ■ 
will  yet  prove  a  most  troublesome  child  for  his  ghostly 
eminence  at  Rome  to  manage.  The  Christian  need  not 
despair ;  God's  hand  is  seen,  and  God's  name  is  heard, 
in  the  changes  and  convulsions  which  are  abroad  among 
the  nations ;  and  if  any  great  gain  is  made  by  his  sov- 
ereign holiness,  it  will  not  correspond  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  church  of  Rome  for  the  last  half  cen- 
tury, which  have  been  almost  entirely  backward.  I 
cannot  close  these  observations  more  appropriately  than 
in  the  words  of  Hon.  and  Rev.  Baptist  W.  Noel,  ad- 
dressed to  a  Papal  missionary  now  in  England :  — 

"  One  thing  I  will  predict,  from  the  signs  which  are 
multiplying  around  us  :  You  may  endeavor  to  warp 
the  minds  of  your  partisans  from  infancy;    you   may 


PIUS  IX.  AND  THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH.      427 

exercise  the  influence  of  the  confessional  to  prevent  the 
study  of  the  Bible ;  you  may  impoverish  the  education 
of  those  within  your  power;  you  may  compress  and 
chain  down  the  minds  of  thousands  and  of  myriads; 
but  you  will  yet  see  such  an  insurrection  of  the  Cath- 
olic masses  of  Europe  against  your  priestly  sway,  that 
while  you  are  arguing  about  '  the  rock,'  you  will  find 
your  sandy  foundations  giving  way ;  and  while  you  are 
proving  your  possession  of  the  '  keys,'  your  prisoners, 
despite  of  keys  and  bolts,  will  burst  from  your  thrall- 
dom  forever." 


428  EUEOPA. 


XXXII. 

FLORENCE. 

The  hour  came  for  me  to  leave  mighty  Rome,  and  all 
its  scenes  of  glory  and  shame.  I  did  not  regret  it ;  for 
that  renowned  city  contains  so  many  objects  of  disgrace 
and  wo,  so  much  over  which  a  philanthropist  can  but 
weep,  that  I  turned  from  its  museums  and  galleries  of 
art,  with  no  prospect  of  ever  beholding  them  again,  with- 
out any  feeling  of  sorrow.  There  is  little  in  Rome  con- 
genial with  my  feelings ;  and  I  was  glad  to  be  gone. 
The  palaces  of  the  Caesars  and  the  tombs  of  the  Scipios 
are  there,  indeed ;  but  what  of  that  ?  Like  Egypt,  when 
the  ten  plagues  were  visiting  the  city  of  the  Nile,  Rome 
swarms  with  filth,  fleas,  fevers,  and  pestilence;  and 
where  once  captive  princes  walked  in  chains  of  gold, 
and  emperors  rode  along  in  victorious  state,  hungry 
cardinals  and  a  besotted  priesthood  roam ;  and  on  the 
throne  once  filled  by  proud  Caesar  sits  a  weak,  imbe- 
cile old  man,  with  a  paper  cap  upon  his  head,  receiv- 
ing the  adoration  of  a  superstitious  and  ignorant  people. 
I  could  look  upon  the  pomp  and  aristocracy  of  the 
English  nobility  with  some  pleasure,  for  there  seems  a 
stately  elegance  in  it ;  I  coald  gaze  upon  the  gay  and 
voluptuous  pleasures  of  Paris  with  some  allowance,  for 
nature  has  her  will  in  Paris,  and,  like  a  goddess,  sweeps 
along,  receiving  the  homage  of  a  blinded  multitude  ;  but 
with  the  hollow  rites  and  foolish  mockery  of  Rome  my 
soul  could  have  no  fellowship      It  was  neither  natural, 


FLORENCE.  429 

grand,  dignified,  manly,  or  pleasing.  The  pomp  of  Rome 
is  an  insult  to  God  and  a  disgrace  to  man,  and  utterly 
unworthy  of  rational  beings.  The  mass  of  the  people 
are  blinded  and  in  ignorance ;  but  the  higher  ecclesias- 
tics must  be  aware  of' the  infamous  fraud  which  they  are 
practicing  upon  the  multitude.  Their  religion  is  a  cheat, 
and  no  man  in  his  sober  senses  can  deny  it ;  and  the 
priests  must  be  aware  that  they  are  arrant  impostors. 
Joe  Smith,  with  his  Book  of  Mormon,  never  perpetrated 
a  greater  deception  than  this  same  religion  of  Rome 
shows  itself  to  be;  and  one  feels  relieved  to  be  away 
from  the  dominion  of  the  pope,  out  of  sight  of  the  car- 
dinal's red  hat,  the  chapeau  of  the  lazy  priests,  and  the 
dirty  rig  of  the  shaven-headed  friars. 

From  Rome  to  Civita  Vecchia  by  diligence,  from 
thence  to  Leghorn  by  steamer,  and  from  thence  to  Flor- 
ence by  railway,  we  hurried,  arriving  at  the  latter  place 
on  the  25  th  of  June.  Florence,  or  Firenze,  as  the  Ital- 
ians call  it,  is  a  city  of  about  one  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants,  lying  on  both  sides  of  the  "  smiling  Arno," 
and  is  one  of  the  most  gay  and  delightful  places  in 
Italy.  It  is  the  capital  of  Tuscany  ;  and  though,  with 
the  decline  of  Italy,  it  has  lost  much  of  its  former  glory, 
is  yet  full  of  life  and  gladness.  Almost  every  day  some 
frolick  is  carried  on,  or  some  saint  celebrated,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  strangers.  We  arrived  on  what  we 
were  told  was  San  Victoria's  day,  and  the  whole  peo- 
ple seemed  to  be  out  in  masses.  The  day  was  observed 
with  many  ci\dl  and  religious  demonstrations,  and  ended 
in  a  horse  race.  Three  horses  were  painted  and  lettered, 
and  let  loose  in  the  public  streets.  The  people  crowded 
the  sides  of  the  thoroughfares  and  windows  all  along  the 
race  course  by  thousands,  military  men  were  parading 
up  and  down,  and  for  some  two  hours  we  gazed  from 


430  EUROPA. 

the  window  of  the  hotel  upon  an  array  of  beauty,  fash- 
ion, pride,  pomp,  and  vanity,  such  as  I  had  never  seen 
before.  The  houses  all  along  were  waving  with  drapery, 
which  was  suspended  from  the  windows,  and  every  thing 
gave  evidence  that  some  gay  event  was  about  to  trans- 
pire. Well,  when  we  had  waited,  stretched  our  necks, 
wondered  at  the  pomp  of  the  grand  duke,  and  been 
amused  at  the  hundred  little  pleasantries,  a  cry  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  the  horses,  and  soon  they 
came  leaping  by,  the  little  creatures  all  spotted  with 
paint,  like  the  cheeks  of  some  of  our  fair  ladies,  and  in 
a  moment  were  out  of  sight.  This  was  all  —  the  show 
was  over,  and  the  people  began  to  disperse.  "We  could 
see  nothing  I3retty,  funny,  or  interesting  in  the  race  of 
these  three  horses,  which,  from  our  window,  looked  very 
much  like  large  wharf  rats  leaping  by,  and  sending  their 
heels  into  the  faces  of  the  crowds  of  people  who  lined 
the  streets  on  both  sides.  The  whole  show  reminded 
us  of  the  exhibition  of  "  three  blind  mice." 

This  race  is  the  result  of  the  folly  of  a  man  who 
died,  leaving  a  sum  of  money,  the  income  of  which 
would  be  about  three  hundred  dollars  annually,  which 
was  to  be  appropriated  to  this  purpose.  Thus  the  peo- 
ple have  a  show  day,  the  horses  are  run  to  death,  sev- 
eral persons  are  kicked  down  and  injured,  to  carry  out 
the  last  will  and  testament  of  the  Florentine  Dives. 

Florence,  according  to  its  name,  is  a  city  of  flowers, 
and  the  flower  girls  meet  you  in  every  street;  especially 
on  the  morning  of  the  Sabbath  are  they  out  by  hun- 
dreds, with  their  white  arms  and  necks  shaded  by  the 
wide  hat,  which  gives  a  grace  and  beauty  to  the  person 
which  cannot  be  derived  from  the  little,  awkward,  un- 
comely bonnet,  resting  so  far  back  on  the  head  that  aj 
paper  of  pins  seems  almost  necessary  to  keep  it  on. 


FLOEENCE.  431 

These  flower  girls  are  modest  and  pretty.  They  do  not 
often  try  to  sell  you  flowers,  but  force  them  into  your 
hand,  and  turn  away  as  if  they  w^ere  indifferent  about 
the  pay.  Frequently  they  dart  away  before  you  can 
draw  out  your  purse,  and  in  a  half  hour  will  meet  you 
again,  and  thrust  another  bouquet  into  your  hand,  or 
twine  a  sweet  rose  or  blushing  pink  in  the  button-hole 
of  your  coat,  and  are  off  before  you  can  say,  "  Thank 
you."  As  you  ride  along,  shower  after  shower  of  roses 
will  fall  into  your  carriage,  thrown  by  a  graceful  hand, 
with  a  most  interesting  smile. 

The  objects  of  interest  in  Florence  are  the  cathedral, 
the  baptistry,  similar  to  that  of  Pisa,  and  the  bell  tower ; 
the  Pitti  Palace,  with  its  museums  and  galleries  of  art; 
the  Boboli  Gardens,  with  their  rich  foliage  and  shady 
walks;  the  convents  and  churches,  rich  with  works 
of  art;  and  a  large  number  of  public  and  private  edi- 
fices, which  wealth  has  adorned  and  beautified.  The 
cathedral  is  an  ^odd-looking  structure,  with  a  fine  dome, 
from  which  Michael  Angelo  modeled  that  of  St.  Peter's, 
in  Pome.  The  dome  was  the  work  of  Brunelleschi,  and 
is  a  wonder,  which  will  make  his  name  noted  as  long  as 
it  continues  to  stand.  It  is  built  in  alternate  layers  of 
black  and  white  stone,  and  presents  a  unique  appearance. 

The  palace  of  the  grand  duke  is  a  very  fine  structure. 
It  was  built  by  Luca  Pitti,  who,  by  a  series  of  misfor- 
tunes, became  involved  in  ruin  and  disgrace.  The  gal- 
leries are  filled  with  the  finest  paintings,  in  which  are 
treasured  up  the  works  of  the  old  masters.  Miles  on 
miles  of  paintings,  and  seas  on  seas  of  fine  carving  and 
chisel  work,  are  to  be  found.  Here  are  the  evidences 
of  the  genius  of  Titian,  Eaphael,  Rubens,  Bartolom- 
meo,  Michael  Angelo,  and  a  host  of  the  old  masters 
who  have  now  fallen  asleep. 


432  EUROPA. 

Nothing  interested  me  more,  while  in  this  delightful 
city,  than  the  visits  which  I  made  to  the  studios  of  sev- 
eral of  the  prominent  artists  of  the  place ;  among  oth- 
ers, that  of  Pampaloni,  the  author  of  the  Kneeling  Sam- 
uel, copies  of  which  in  plaster  are  so  common.  The 
elder  Pampaloni  is  dead;  but  his  son,  inheriting  his 
genius,  still  continues  to  give  life  to  dead  marble,  chan- 
ging deformity  to  order  and  beauty.  Several  exquisite 
statues  on  which  the  artist  was  engaged  were  shown  us. 
One  of  great  excellence  as  a  work  of  art,  to  which  the 
finishing  stroke  was  just  being  given,  was  Magdalene 
in  the  Wilderness ;  but  w^ho  knows  what  that  means  1 
A  woman  reclining  on  her  side,  her  arm  upon  a  mossy 
stone,  a  rude  cross  beside  her,  and  her  hand  resting  on 
a  skull.  The  lifelike  countenance,  the  exquisite  finish 
of  the  limbs,  and  the  gentle  look  of  piety  depicted  on 
the  features,  render  the  work  one  of  great  interest. 

Leaving  Pampaloni' s,  we  repaired  to  the  studio  of 
our  countryman,  Hiram  Powers,  who  stands  in  the 
front  rank  in  his  profession.  Here,  in  this  little  room, 
were  the  Greek  Slave,  and  Eve,  modeled  and  finished. 
The  American  feels  at  home  on  entering ;  for  besides 
the  frank,  open,  cordial  salutation  which  he  receives 
from  the  artist,  he  sees  the  busts  of  various  distin- 
guished men  whose  names  are  indissolubly  associated 
with  the  history  of  our  own  country.  Mr.  Powers  is 
now  engaged  upon  a  work  which  he  designs  shall  rep- 
resent the  Genius  of  America.  It  is  a  female  figure, 
with  a  loose,  firowing  sash  thrown  about  her  person,  a 
serene  and  placid  countenance,  one  hand  lifted,  and  the 
fingers  pointing  to  heaven,  as  if  appealing  to  the  Most 
High,  as  our  great  sovereign  and  helper,  the  other  hand 
placed  upon  a  bundle  of  rods,  representing  the  states 
of  our  confederacy,  and  the  feet  standing  on  the  broken 


FLOEENCE.  433 

emblems  of  tyranny  and  oppression.  The  upper  part 
of  the  figure  was  completed,  and  we  asked  Powers  where 
the  emblems  of  oppression  were,  that  he  was  to  have 
beneath  the  feet  of  the  Genius.  "  O,"  said  he,  "  we 
never  represent  Liberty  treading  on  Tyranny  until  the 
statue  is  ready  to  leave  Florence,  lest  Tyranny  should 
attempt  to  forestall  the  matter  and  tread  on  Liberty." 
Mr.  Powers  has  a  family  of  young  Italians  growing  up 
around  him,  but  he  assured  us  that  he  could  not  forget 
his  native  land.  One  son  he  has  recently  sent  to  West 
Point,  to  receive  a  military  education. 

From  Powers's  we  went  to  see  Greenough,  who  was 
absent  from  the  city  at  the  time.  He  also  is  an  Ameri- 
can, and  stands  high  in  Florence  as  an  artist.  He  is 
now  engaged  on  a  great  work  for  some  of  the  public 
buildings  at  Washington.  The  group  consists  of  an 
Lidian,  a  hunter,  a  woman  with  a  child  in  her  arms, 
and  a  dog.  The  Lidian,  naked  and  fiendlike,  has  his 
rough  hand  in  the  long,  flowing  hair  of  the  woman, 
drawing  back  her  head,  with  tomahawk  upraised,  ready 
to  strike  the  fatal  blow.  The  wretch  has  one  knee  upon 
the  ground  ;  the  woman  has  her  babe  in  her  arms,  and 
her  whole  countenance  is  wild  and  despairing.  When 
the  blow  is  ready  to  fall,  the  hunter,  the  husband  of  the 
woman,  the  father  of  the  child,  arrives,  and  seizes  the 
upraised  hand  of  the  savage.  The  gun  of  the  hunter  is 
on  the  ground ;  his  dog,  fierce  and  bristling,  stands 
barking  by.  The  nude  figure  of  the  Indian,  the  rude 
yet  neat  dress  of  the  backwoodsman,  the  shrinking 
woman  expecting  death,  yet  striving  to  cover  her  child, 
form  a  striking  group,  well  worthy  the  fame  of  our 
countryman,  and  a  befitting  monument  for  the  halls  of 
the  nation.     One  of  the  workmen  told  us  the  group  was 

55  KK 


434  EUROPA. 

for  "  the  palace  of  the  President  of  America."  Well, 
that  is  near  enough ! 

All  the  churches  of  Florence  are  interesting,  and  are 
distinguished  for  something  peculiar  and  unique;  but 
only  one  or  two  of  them  deserve  our  notice  at  this  time. 
The  Church  of  Santa  Croce,  erected  six  hundred  years 
ago,  is  to  Florence  what  Westminster  Abbey  is  to  Lon- 
don —  the  charnel  of  its  illustrious  dead.  The  first  and 
most  conspicuous  monuments  which  the  stranger  sees  on 
entering  this  edifice,  is  the  grand  sarcophagus  of  Michael 
Angelo,  the  world's  great  artist.  The  sister  arts.  Paint- 
ing, Sculpture,  and  Architecture,  are  weeping  over  the 
tomb,  while  surmounting  them  is  a  statue  of  the  great 
man  himself  The  spot  where  he  sleeps  was  selected, 
and  the  manner  of  his  burial  was  described,  by  the  artist 
himself,  who  wished  his  resting-place  to  be  within  sight 
of  the  cathedral,  on  whose  spacious  dome  he  loved  to 
gaze  in  life.  Michael  Angelo  was  a  remarkable  man, 
and  evidences  of  his  skill  are  seen  all  over  Florence  — 
in  one  place  his  paintings,  in  another  his  statues,  and 
in  another  the  work  on  which  he  was  engaged  at  the 
time  of  his  death.  Fie  was  a  man  of  rare  abilities  and 
remarkable  genius.  He  was  manly,  bold,  and  inde- 
pendent. He  stood  before  popes  and  kings  without 
fear,  and  his  name  has  descended  to  our  times  as  one 
of  the  few  men  whom  wealth,  fame,  and  honor  could 
not  corrupt,  and  whom  bribery  and  policy  could  not 
seduce.  There  is  told  of  him  an  amusing  and  striking 
incident,  which  will  illustrate  his  character.  It  is 
known  that  he  frescoed  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel, 
which  to  this  day  is  a  wonder.  The  circumstances 
under  which  it  was  done  are  thus  related :  — 

"  The  surpassing  superiority  of  Michael  Angelo,  while 
it  secured  the  patronage  of  princes  and  popes,  awakened 


FLORENCE.  435 

the  envy  and  hatred  of  artists.  Pope  Julius  II.  deter- 
mined to  monopolize  his  labors.  His  enemies  suggested 
to  the  pope  that  he  was  as  excellent  a  painter  as  a 
sculptor.     This  stroke  of  policy  told. 

"  After  having  walked  for  some  time,  Julius  led  the 
artist  into  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  raising  his  hand  to- 
wards the  vault,  said,  '  Since  my  uncle's  death,  this  beau- 
tiful building  has  remained  unfinished.  I  wish  it  to  be 
said,  Julius  II.  has  completed  what  Sixtus  IV.  began. 
Behold  your  appointed  work  ;  you  shall  be  at  once  the 
architect,  the  painter,  and  the  decorator.  Fill  this 
immense  vault  with  frescoes  and  innumerable  figures. 
I  will  that  the  world  shall  know  that  Michael  Angelo 
is  inimitable,  not  only  as  a  sculptor,  but  as  a  painter.' 

"  For  a  moment  the  artist  stood  silent  with  amaze- 
ment ;  then  he  said,  — 

"  '  Your  holiness  mocks  your  servant.' 
"  '  What  mean  you.  Master  Buonarotti  1 ' 
" '  My  business  is  to  wield  the  chisel  and  the  mallet. 
I  know  little  of  painting,  and  nothmg  of  the  mechanical 
part  of  fresco  work.  How,  then,  can  I  suddenly,  at  my 
age,  change  my  career  1  But  your  holiness  cannot  be 
in  earnest.' 

" '  I  have  said  I  will  it ;  it  is  thine  to  obey.' 
"  '  And  I  tell  your  holiness  that  this  idea  never  came 
from  yourself  It  is  an  infamous  snare  laid  for  me  by 
my  enemies.  If  I  accept,  I  shall  certainly  fail.  Well, 
I  prefer  enduring  the  anger  of  your  holiness  to  incurring 
certain  shame.     I  shall  instantly  return  to  Florence.' 

" '  We'll  take  good  care  ! '  cried  Julius ;  and  he  retired 
abruptly,  leaving  the  artist  a  prey  to  his  mute  despair. 
The  thoughts  that  passed  through  the  sculptor's  mind, 
during  that  long,  lonely  night,  have  remained  unspoken. 
But  let  us  imagine  him  whose  mind  was  teeming  with 


436  EUROPA. 

vast  projects,  who  needed  but  to  strike  the  rock,  and 
glorious  creations  would  start  forth,  turned  suddenly 
back  in  his  career,  commanded  to  forget  his  people  of 
stone,  and  to  evoke  in  their  place  a  nation  of  colored 
shadows  ;  to  pass  from  the  summit  of  one  art  to  the  basei 
of  another ;  and  this  to  be  accomplished  in  an  hour. 
Truly,  it  was  a  fierce  struggle,  and  a  strange  triumph 
wrought  by  the  indomitable  human  wilL 

"  On  the  morrow,  Julius  found  Michael  Angelo  on 
the  spot  where  he  had  left  him ;  his  arms  were  folded 
on  his  breast,  his  head  bent  in  profound  meditation ;  his 
cheeks  were  pale,  and  his  eyes  bloodshot,  but  the  fire  of 
genius  beamed  on  his  brow. 

"  '  Well  1 '  said  the  pope. 

"  '  I  submit  to  your  wishes.' 

"'I  am  sure  of  it.  Believe  me,  your  enemies,  in 
seeking  to  injure  you,  have  prepared  for  you  a  new 
triumph.' 

" '  Let  Bramante  come  immediately  to  construct  the 
scaffolding.' 

"This  man  had  been  foremost  in  the  attack;  and 
now,  caught  in  his  own  snare,  the  envious  architect' 
thought  at  least  to  procure  a  share  of  the  work  for  his 
nephew,  Raphael.  But  Julius  was  inexorable,  and 
dryly  ordered  Bramante  to  prepare  the  necessary  planks 
and  cordage. 

"  Meantime,  Michael  Angelo  went  to  the  Sistine,  and, 
for  the  first  time  addressing  himself  to  Bramante,  said, 
in  the  presence  of  the  pope,  and  in  a  tone  of  insulting 
irony,  '  In  what  manner  do  you  propose,  Master  Archi- 
tect, to  raise  this  scaffold  1 ' 

" '  In  the  usual  manner,'  replied  Bramante,  scorn- 
fully. 

'"  That  is  to  say ' 


FLORENCE.  437 

" '  That  is  to  say,  master,  since  you  seem  ignorant  of 
the  first  principles  of  the  art  you  profess,  that  I  will 
make  holes  in  the  vault ;  that  from  these  openings  cap- 
stans will  descend,  and  sustain  the  marble  platform  on 
which  you  will  work.' 

"  '  Very  clear,  indeed.  Master  Bramante.  But  permit 
me  to  ask  you  one  question :  When  my  paintings  shall 
be  finished,  how  will  you  stop  these  holes  1 ' 

" '  O,  time  enough  to  think  of  that.' 

"  Michael  Angelo  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  having 
called  the  head  carpenter,  said  to  him  in  a  loud  voice, 
'  Take  all  this  trumpery  away ;  sell  it,  and  keep  the 
proceeds  for  your  own  use.'  He  then  explained  to  the 
astonished  pope  the  method  which  he  meant  to  employ, 
and  which  has  been  ever  since  adopted  under  similar 
circumstances. 

"  The  next  day  he  sent  to  Florence  for  several  paint- 
ers accustomed  to  fresco  work.  He  caused  them  to 
ascend  the  scaffold,  gave  each  a  portion  of  the  wall  to 
paint,  and  watched  their  proceedings  closely.  A  few 
hours  sufficed  to  make  him  acquainted  with  the  me- 
chanical portion  of  the  art.  He  paid  them  liberally, 
and  dismissed  them  ;  then  he  effaced  all  that  they  had 
done,  and  shut  himself  up  alone. 

"Without  any  assistance  he  tempered  the  lime,  mixed 
the  plaster,  and  ground  his  colors.  Often  a  few  drops 
more  or  less  than  the  right  quantity  of  water,  a  coat  laid 
on  too  thinly  or  too  thickly,  in  fact,  the  smallest  over- 
sight, used  to  cause  his  nearly-finished  frescoes  to  fall 
off  in  patches.  But  genius  mocks  at  difficulties,  both 
great  and  small.  After  a  time,  colors  and  plaster 
obeyed  their  ruler,  as  marble  and  bronze  had  done  be- 
fore. The  mechrnical  obstacles  removed,  it  only  re- 
mained for  him  to  execute  his  sublime  conceptions. 

KK* 


438  EUKOPA. 

"  It  was  the  spirit  of  Dante  incarnate  under  another 
form,  and  breathed  forth  in  painting  instead  of  in  song. 
Both  have  embraced  in  their  compositions  the  whole 
range  of  creation,  the  order  and  events  of  time,  from  the 
fall  of  the  angels  to  the  last  judgment.  It  would  be  as 
impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  glories  of  the  Sistine 
vault  to  those  who  have  not  seen  them,  as  to  describe 
those  of  Dante's  wondrous  epic  to  such  as  have  not  felt 
them.  It  would  be  speaking  of  music  to  the  deaf,  and 
of  colors  to  the  blind.  Michael  Angelo  employed  but 
twenty  months  in  his  stupendous  work.  On  the  day 
when  he  finally  came  down  from  the  scaffolding,  his 
eyes  had  been  so  accustomed  to  looking  upward,  that 
he  could  no  longer  without  pain  turn  them  towards  the 
earth  —  a  touching  symbol  of  genius  obliged  to  look 
downward  and  walk  with  men,  after  having  soared  amid 
the  regions  of  the  sky." 

Next  we  come  to  the  monument  of  Dante,  author  of 
Divina  Cotiimedia,  the  greatest  poem  of  the  age  ;  a  man 
who  died  of  a  broken  heart,  unappreciated  by  his  con- 
temporaries. Beyond  is  that  of  Alfieri,  the  greatest 
tragic  poet  in  Italy,  a  man  of  wonderful  genius;  pas- 
sionate, haughty,  imperious,  but  great.  The  names  of 
great  men  are  read  on  every  side,  and  the  enduring 
marble  tells  where  sleeps  their  dust.  The  monument 
of  Galileo,  with  the  statues  of  Astronomy  and  Geometry, 
and  the  statue  of  the  great  man  himself,  form  a  group 
which  leads  you  to  wonder  that  human  wisdom  and 
skill  should  die  so  soon. 

Leaving  Santa  Croce,  we  may  wander  about  among 
other  churches,  finding  in  the  corner  of  one  a  wax 
figure  of  Christ  in  a  glass  case.  The  figure  was  spotted 
with  blood,  crowned  with  thorns,  and  well  calculated  to 
awaken  disgust.     This  figure  was  covered  all  over  with 


FLORENCE.  439 

votive  offerings,  in  the  shape  of  watches,  rings,  and  other 
jewehy.  I  counted  seven  watches  of  considerable  value 
hanging  up  there.  The  priests  are  careful  not  to  let 
these  things  become  too  burdensome  to  the  figure. 

In  another  church^  is  a  Madonna,  said  to  have  been 
painted  by  St.  Luke,  who,  according  to  these  folks, 
must  have  been  a  wonderful  artist.  In  another  ^  you 
will  find  paintings  of  a  great  variety  of  persons  and 
scenes,  some  painted  by  one  apostle  and  some  by 
another,  some  by  one  saint  and  some  by  another,  until 
you  feel  disgusted  with  the  conversion  of  the  house  of 
God  into  a  gallery  of  paintings  and  curiosities.  One 
Sabbath  day  we  went  into  one  of  these  churches,^  which 
was  filled  with  an  aristocratic  audience.  A  whole  regi- 
ment of  priests  were  at  work  at  the  altar,  bowing  and 
bending,  rising  and  falling,  to  the  edification  of  the 
people,  who  gazed  on  Avith  a  sort  of  stupid  wonder. 
Seeing  others  walking  about,  we  did  the  same,  and  at 
length  found  our  way  to  the  altar,  and  behind  it,  where 
about  sixty  men  were  making  most  delightful  music. 
Instruments  of  various  kinds  and  fine  voices  blended 
together  in  one  delightful  strain  of  harmony.  I  have 
seldom  heard  such  delicious  music.  There  Avas  in  it 
something  grand  and  awful,  as  the  holy  anthems,  sung 
by  such  a  host  of  professional  singers,  echoed  amid  the 
pillars  and  arches  of  the  old  church.  The  choir  in  Ital- 
ian churches  is  generally  concealed,  and  so  constructed 
are  the  churches  that  the  stranger  can  hardly  tell  from 
whence  the  strains  proceed.  The  effect  of  the  singing 
is  thus  hightened,  and  rendered  more  mysterious  and 
enchanting.  We  know  but  little  about  good  singing  in 
the  churches  of  America.     The  soft,  warbling,  melting 

'  Santissima  Annunziato.  ^  Santo  Spirito.  '  Santa  Maria  Novella 


440  EUROPA. 

Italian  voice  produces  strains  such  as  never  roll  from 
the  lips  of  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

The  devout  appearance  of  the  people  in  church  is 
contradicted  by  the  eagerness  with  which  they  rush  to 
the  scenes  of  amusement  with  which  the  sacred  day 
closes.  On  the  Sabbath  before  I  left  Florence,  the 
afternoon  was  given  to  as  gay  and  brilliant  parade  as  I 
ever  saw  on  festive  days  in  our  own  country.  Splendid 
companies  of  military  men  marched  up  and  down  the 
streets ;  banners  floated  from  the  windows ;  civic  pro- 
cessions moved  through  the  streets ;  and  over  the 
people,  who,  in  the  morning,  w^ere  bending  before  the 
altar,  came  swelling  the  intoxicating  melody  of  pleas 
ure  and  sin. 

The  Catholic  church  here  ajDpears  as  odious  as  in 
Rome.  The  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  hates  the  Bible 
as  much  as  does  his  master,  the  pope,  who  has  made  the 
bringing  of  one  into  Eome  penal  crime,  for  which  four 
years  of  galley  labor  are  necessary  as  an  expiation.  At 
the  present  time,  arrests  are  being  made  almost  every 
day  in  Florence,  and  no  Italian  is  free  to  believe  or  to 
worship  according  to  his  own  conscience.  Information 
is  generally  received  through  the  agency  of  the  confes- 
sional, that  perverted  agent  of  a  corrupt  church.  The 
wife  reveals  the  fact  that  her  husband  has  a  Bible,  or 
the  mother  states  that  her  son  has  a  prohibited  book, 
or  the  daughter  confesses  that  her  father  is  a  heretic, 
and  soon  the  offender  is  secured,  and,  often  without 
proof,  hurried  into  banishment,  or  to  a  vile  and  loath- 
some dungeon.  There  is  no  crime  in  Italy  greater  than 
heresy ;  murder  has  less  of  guilt  than  Bible  reading ; 
and  one  had  better  become  a  beggar  or  a  bandit  than  a 
Protestant.  I  see  that  the  pope  has  expressed  his  desire 
to  send  a  stone  from   the  Temple  of  Peace,  with  an 


FLORENCE.  441 

inscription,  "Rome  to  America,"  to  be  placed  in  the 
Washington  Monument.  Such  an  insult  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  great  man  could  hardly  be  oiFered  as  the 
reception  of  such  a  stone.  The  pope  will  not  allow  the 
countrymen  of  Washington  to  meet  for  worship  in 
Rome ;  he  will  not  allow  them  to  build  a  chapel  ten 
feet  square  in  his  city ;  he  will  not  allow  them  to  bring 
an  Italian  Bible  into  the  place ;  and  his  only  aim  now 
is  to  subvert  and  destroy  the  light  which  emanates  from 
the  American  republic.  Wovdd  a  stone  from  Benedict 
Arnold,  were  he  now  living,  be  received,  or  would  it  be 
sent  back,  with  an  indignant  reply"?  The  greatest  foe 
to  human  freedom  in  the  world  is  the  Pope  of  Kome ; 
he  is  the  sworn  enemy  of  all  the  dearest  rights  of  man ; 
an  American  citizen  is  yet  lingering  in  his  dungeon, 
and  yet  he  sends  a  stone  to  adorn  the  monument  of 
patriotism. 

But  to  return  to  Florence.  The  city  is  now  swarm- 
ing with  Austrian  soldiers,  sent  here  by  Prince  Metter- 
nich,  to  sustain  the  grand  duke  in  opposition  to  the 
wishes  of  his  own  people.  The  masses  hate  the  sol- 
diers, and  gnash  upon  them  with  their  teeth.  They 
feel  indignant  that  the  duke  should  allow  himself  to 
be  sustained  by  these  hirelings  of  a  foreign  government. 
One  day,  while  leaving  the  grand  duke's  palace,  we 
found  a  regiment  of  these  Austrian  soldiers  marching 
by.  We  asked  of  our  guide,  a  well-informed,  sensible 
man,  "What  are  all  these  soldiers  doing  in  Florence'? " 
He  replied,  "I  do  not  know ;  I  wish  the  devil  would 
take  them  away,  for  he  sent  them  here."  This  expres- 
sion, reported  at  the  palace,  might  have  cost  the  fellow 
his  head ;  yet,  knowing  well  his  company,  he  went  on 
with  a  low,  deep,  bitter  strain  of  denunciation  against 
the  oppressive  enactments  of  the  government.  But  the 
56 


442  EUROPA 

soldiers  are  as  much  to  be  pitied  as  the  people.  They 
are  quartered  in  convents  and  private  residences,  and 
are  cursed  by  the  whole  population.  They  live  in  the 
midst  of  maledictions,  and  die  with  none  to  mourn.  I 
saw  one  fall  in  the  street,  one  day ;  he  was  borne  into 
the  hotel  apparently  lifeless,  while  his  companions 
seemed  to  care  little  about  him.  One  day,  while  sit- 
ting at  our  windows,  in  the  midst  of  a  terrific  thunder 
storm,  we  saw  a  military  funeral  passing  by.  The 
heavens  were  in  commotion.  The  angry  clouds  seemed 
in  valiant  conflict  with  each  other.  Thunder  rolled 
over  our  heads  with  startling  effect.  The  sharp  light- 
nings flashed  with  forked  and  serpentine  motions 
through  the  regions  of  space.  Every  human  being 
fled  for  shelter  to  some  kindly  refuge.  In  the  midst 
of  this  storm,  a  low  and  solemn  wail  fell  on  the  ear, 
and  then  a  louder  blast  of  trumpet,  bugle,  and  the 
more  discordant  drum.  On  looking  out,  we  saw  ad- 
vancing a  funeral  procession.  First  came  a  soldier 
bearing  a  white  cross,  which  was  tastefully  trimmed 
with  black  crape ;  next,  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  with 
arms  reversed,  marching  in  sad  and  solemn  order ;  next, 
a  fine  band,  which  ever  and  anon  sent  the  strains  of  the 
melancholy  death  dirge  along  the  deserted  streets,  mak- 
ing sad  yet  exquisite  hannony ;  next,  a  priest  in  white 
robes,  trimmed  with  gold ;  then  the  corpse,  borne  upon 
the  shoulders  of  four  men,  covered  with  crape,  on 
which  were  laid  the  military  cap,  plume,  and  sword  of 
the  departed,  and  a  wreath  of  fresh  roses;  on  each 
side  were  the  pall  bearers  with  lighted  candles,  while 
behind  followed  a  detachment  of  soldiers.  Poor  fel- 
low! Far  from  the  land  of  his  birth  —  for  he  was  a 
Swiss — he  was  buried;  far  from  that  good  mother;  far 
fi'om  the  kind  father  who  loved  him  in  childhood ;  far 


i 


FLORENCE.  443 

from  the  wife  to  ^vhom  he  gave  his  early  affections ;  far 
from  the  child  who  has  often  wept  for  him  in  vain. 
Poor  fellow !  Why  did  he  not  remain  at  home,  culti- 
vating the  field,  and  not  come  here  to  die  1 

But  we  will  leave  Florence,  however  much  we  might 
wish  to  dwell  upon  its  beauties  and  pleasures.  We 
leave  the  city  of  Dante  and  Petrarch,  the  smiling  Arno, 
the  region  of  Italian  poetry,  the  studios  of  the  artists, 
and  gay,  delightful  Florence  itself,  the  city  of  flowers, 
as  its  name  signifies,  and  pursue  our  way  north,  leaving 
behind  us  the  gay  scenes,  in  the  midst  of  which  we 
have  spent  a  few  delightful  days.  As  we  proceed,  we 
go  still  farther  from  monkery  and  priestcraft,  in  pro- 
portion as  we  leave  the  Eternal  City.  We  get  some 
little  out  of  the  region  of  relics  and  rites ;  away  from 
monks  who  will  work  any  miracle  for  a  franc,  or  for 
two  scudi  show  you  a  bit  of  the  true  cross,  the  seam- 
less coat,  or,  what  is  more  ethereal,  — 

"  A  ray,  imprimis,  of  the  star  that  shone 
To  the  wise  men  ;  a  phial  full  of  sounds, 
The  musical  chimes  of  the  great  bell  that  hung 
In  Solomon's  Temple  ;  and  though  last,  not  least, 
A  feather  from  the  angel  Gabriel's  wing, 
Dropped  in  the  Virgin's  chamber." 

O,  when  will  man  look  up  to  God,  and  appeal  away 
from  the  miserable  falsehood  of  a  corrupt  hierarchy,  to 
the  Truth  and  the  Life,  and  cast  down,  in  derision  and 
holy  zeal,  the  altars  of  this  sanctified  paganism,  which 
has  set  up  its  empire  in  the  very  shadow  of  God's 
thronfj  1 


444  EUROPA. 


XXXIII. 

BOLOGNA  AND   FERRARA. 

We  left  Florence,  in  the  diligence,  one  evening  about 
dusk.  As  this  vehicle  was  a  fair  specimen  of  the  whole 
diligence  tribe,  I  will  describe  it.  We  had  four  horses, 
as  lean  and  lank  as  Pharaoh's  lean  kine,  and  as  hun- 
gry, too.  The  harness  was  partly  of  leather,  but 
mostly  of  rope,  rotten  as  twine,  and  as  clumsy  as  a 
bed  cord.  The  diligence  itself  is  a  long,  cumbersome 
vehicle,  like  an  omnibus,  and  would  not  be  tolerated  in 
Yankeeland  a  half  hour.  It  is  divided  into  different 
compartments.  The  cabriolet  is  an  open  sort  of  a 
chaise  on  top ;  the  coupe  is  the  forward  apartment, 
will  hold  four  or  five  persons,  and  is  considered  as  the 
best  place  for  observation  and  ease;  the  interne,  or 
interior,  is  an  apartment  with  two  seats  opposite,  like 
those  in  a  coach,  and  is  in  the  middle  ;  while  below  is 
the  rotunda,  with  two  seats  opposite,  on  the  sides,  like 
those  of  an  omnibus.  These  seats  will  hold  two,  three, 
or  four  persons,  according  to  the  size  of  the  vehicle. 
The  baggage  is  put  upon  the  top  of  the  crazy  carriage, 
and  is  liable  every  moment  to  fall  through  on  to  your 
head.  The  horses  are  changed  every  eight  or  ten 
miles,  and  the  postilions  leave  with  the  horses.  When 
they  leave,  they  come  to  the  windows  of  the  carriage 
and  demand  something  for  drink,  and  if  you  refuse, 
will  curse  and  swear  prodigiously.  It  generally  takes 
thi'ee  men,  sometimes  only  two,  to  get  the  diligence 


BOLOGNA  AND  FERRARA.  445 

along.  One  is  the  postilion,  one  a  sort  of  a  driver,  and 
the  third  a  conductor.  The  whole  arrangement  is  cum- 
brous and  awkward,  and  traveling  by  it  is  slow  and 
tedious. 

In  such  a  contrivance  we  rode  out  of  Florence,  on  St. 
Peter's  day,  when  the  boys  were  playing  with  powder, 
and  the  men  were  illuminating  their  houses,  in  honor 
of  the  great  apostle.  We  rode  all  night,  getting  what 
sleep  we  could,  and  arrived  at  Bologna,  the  city  of  sau- 
sages, the  next  afternoon.  On  our  way  we  were  sub- 
jected to  many  inconveniences.  If  we  borrowed  an  old 
iron  pan  to  drink  from,  we  were  expected  to  pay  for  it, 
and  we  neither  ate  or  drank  without  a  fee,  and  were 
haunted  by  beggars  without  number.  This  is,  beyond 
all  account,  the  greatest  country  in  the  world  to  dupe 
travelers.  Two  thirds  of  the  people  seem  to  live  on 
others,  and  the  other  third  get  a  living  I  know  not  how. 
I  was  agreeably  disappointed  in  Bologna,  it  being  a 
much  finer  city  than  I  supposed.  It  numbers  about 
seventy  thousand  inhabitants,  and  is  the  second  city  in 
the  dominions  of  the  pope.  Having  washed  off  the  dust 
of  travel,  secured  a  good  dinner,  and  beginning  to  look 
a  little  more  like  human  beings,  we  went  out  to  see  the 
objects  of  interest.  We  found  our  way  to  the  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts,  where  we  saw  paintings  of  much  merit — so 
artists  say ;  the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Agnes,  by  Domeni- 
chino ;  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents,  by  Guido  ;  the 
Santa  Cicilia,  by  Raphael ;  and  many  others.  The  ca- 
thedral at  Bologna  is  a  vast  unfinished  pile,  the  original 
plan  of  which  would  have  made  it  one  hundred  feet 
longer  than  St.  Peter's  at  Pome.  Here,  in  the  Church 
of  San  Dominicho,  is  the  tomb  of  St.  Dominic,  the 
founder  of  the  base  and  bloody  Inquisition,  for  which 

LL 


446  EUROPA. 

the  world  curses  his  memory ;  also  the  tomb  of  the  great 
painter  Guido,  and  several  others  of  much  eminence. 
Here  also  are  two  famous  leaning  towers.  They  are 
rude  square  columns ;  the  highest  rises  three  hundred 
and  sixteen  feet,  and  inclines  several  feet.  This  incli- 
nation was  caused  by  the  settling  of  the  ground  in  time 
of  an  earthquake.  The  two  towers  together  present  a 
quaint  appearance,  and  what  on  earth  they  were  erected 
for  none  can  tell. 

The  cemetery  of  Bologna  is  a  singular  arrangement. 
It  is  a  vast  pile  of  buildings,  and  the  bodies  are  buried 
in  niches.  Connected  with  the  buildings  are  inclosed 
gardens  where  graves  are  made.  We  spent  an  hour 
here  musing  on  the  brevity  and  vanity  of  human  life, 
and  then,  having  wandered  over  the  city,  and  rode  out 
to  the  bights  of  St.  Michael,  we  retired  to  rest,  to 
dream  of  home. 

The  next  morning  we  started  for  Ferrara,  at  which 
place  we  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day.  As 
was  our  custom,  we  proceeded,  without  loss  of  time,  to 
see  the  town.  It  was  once  a  fine  city,  but  now  is 
almost  deserted,  and  the  grass  is  growing  in  the  streets. 
It  has  some  galleries  of  paintings  of  merit,  through 
which  we  ran,  without  stopping  long  enough  to  see  any 
thing  to  advantage. 

Every  stranger  in  Ferrara  will  visit  the  prison  of 
Tasso,  a  little  cell  twenty  feet  long,  and  ten  feet  wide, 
where  he  was  imprisoned  by  the  duke  for  aspiring  to  the 
hand  of  his  sister,  the  beautiful  Eleanora.  The  history 
of  Tasso  was  a  sad  one.  All  through  life  he  seemed  to 
be  afflicted  more  than  other  men.  In  early  life  he  was 
separated  from  his  mother  by  a  sad  calamity,  which  he 
bewailed  in  his  own  affecting  verse. 


BOLOGNA  AND  FERRARA.  447 

''  Me  from  my  mother's  breast,  a  child, 

Did  cruel  fortune  tear  ; 
The  tears  she  shed,  the  kisses  wild, 

She  pressed,  in  her  despair, 
On  my  pale  cheek  ;  and  O,  the  zeal 
Of  her  most  passionate  appeal 

To  Heaven  for  me  in  air 
Alone  recorded  —  with  regret, 
I  yet  remember  —  weep  for  yet ! 

Never,  ah  !  never  more  was  I 

To  meet  her  face  to  face, 
And  feel  my  full  heart  beat  more  high 

In  her  beloved  embrace  ! 
I  left  her  —  O  the  pang  severe  ! 
Like  young  Camilla,  or,  more  drear, 

Ascanius-like,  to  trace 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  through  bush  and  brier, 
The  footsteps  of  my  wandering  sire." 

But  his  genius  drew  friends  to  his  aid,  and  he  became 
the  companion  of  the  nobles,  and  basked  a  while  in  their 
sunlight,  and,  at  length,  for  the  crime  already  specified, 
was  thrown  into  prison  by  Alphonso.  From  this  prison, 
where  I  do  not  see  how  any  person  could  have  lived 
long,  and  where  on  the  walls  Byron  has  scribbled  his 
name,  and  which  he  has  immortalized  by  his  verse, 
came  forth  some  of  Tasso's  choicest  poems.  One  which 
he  wrote  to  his  friend,  Scipio  Gonzaga,  is  full  of  wild, 
enthusiastic  eloquence. 

"  Sure,  pity,  Scipio,  on  earth  has  fled 

From  royal  breasts  to  seek  abode  in  heaven ; 
For  if  she  were  not  banished,  scorned,  or  dead. 

Would  not  some  ear  to  my  complaints  be  given  ? 

Is  noble  faith  at  pleasure  to  be  riven, 
Though  freely  pledged  that  I  had  nought  to  dread, 

And  I,  by  endless  outrage  to  be  driven 
To  worse  than  death  —  the  deathlike  life  I've  led? 

For  this  is  of  the  q'lick  a  urnve  :  and  here 


448  EUEOPA. 

Am  I,  a  living,  breathing  corpse,  interred, 
To  go  not  forth  till  prisoned  in  my  bier. 

O  earth  !  O  heaven  !  if  love  and  truth  are  heard, 
Or  honor,  fame,  and  virtue  worth  a  tear. 

Let  not  my  prayer  be  fruitless  or  deferred." 

The  poet  was  at  length  liberated,  and  removing  to 
Naples,  died  of  a  broken  heart  in  the  monastery  of  St. 
Onofrio,  to  which  my  readers  have  already  been  taken. 

The  house  of  Ariosto  is  here,  and  his  room  is  just  as 
he  left  it.  The  chair  on  which  he  sat,  the  table  at 
which  he  wrote,  and  the  very  inkstand  which  he  used 
remain.  His  tomb  is  in  the  Church  of  the  Benedic- 
tines, and  over  it  yet  stands  the  lightning-riven  bust, 
and  is  visited  by  many  who  have  read  and  admired  his 
writings. 

Just  at  night  we  left  Ferrara,  and  soon  crossing  the 
River  Po,  entered  the  Austrian  dominions.  There  we 
were  subjected  to  an  examination.  Our  baggage  was 
overhauled  without  much  ceremony.  There  was  noth- 
ing suspicious  in  my  bag  but  a  sermon  which  I  had 
nicely  folded  up  in  the  very  bottom  of  my  budget.  The 
official,  a  good-natured  man,  drew  it  forth,  and  turned 
over  its  pages,  which  I  could  hardly  read  myself,  much 
less  he,  and  seemed  in  considerable  trouble  about  the 
harmless  thing.  He  turned  it  over,  handed  it  to  his 
assistant,  and  mumbled  in  a  strange  tongue.  Now  and 
then,  a  glance  at  me  would  be  given,  as  if  he  was  en- 
deavorkig  to  read  in  my  countenance  whether  I  was  a 
red  republican,  socialist,  or  rebel.  But  my  countenance 
was  as  blank  as  the  sermon,  which  he  finally  threw  into 
my  bag  with  as  much  violence  as  if  it  had  burnt  his 
fingers.  But  this  was  not  all.  We  were  to  be  exam- 
ined by  our  j)assports  to  see  if  they  were  right.  Dr.  M. 
went  first,  and  passed  very  well.     His  well-brushed  coat 


BOLOGNA  AND  FERKARA  449 

and  white  hat,  and  dignified  demeanor,  answered  very 
well  to  the  description  of  the  document  which  declared 

him  to  be  "  an  ecclesiastic."     Next,  Rev.  Mr. 's 

turn  came.  His  papers  declared  him  to  be  an  ecclesi- 
astic, but  his  personal  appearance  seemed  to  belie  the 
statement  His  sack  coat,  hanging  loosely  upon  his 
thin  form,  his  cap  turned  half  round,  and  his  lips  fixed 
for  a  discussion  with  porter  or  priest,  rendered  it  some- 
what difficult  for  the  officials  to  believe  the  statement 
made  over  the  name  of  our  honorable  secretary  of  state, 
and  indorsed  by  a  legion  of  consuls,  ministers,  tide- 
waiters,  and  cheats.  But  at  length  he  was  permitted  to 
pass.  My  turn  came  next,  and  my  plight  was  more  sad 
than  either  of  my  companions.  To  a  coat  of  a  peculiar 
cut  I  had  added  a  little  blue  velvet  Turkish  cap,  with  a 
huge  red  tassel,  and  in  my  hand  I  carried  a-  straw  hat, 
which  I  used  for  fan,  umbrella,  and  house  roof  My 
companions  looked  bad  enough,  but  I  was  in  a  more 
pitiable  condition  than  either.  So,  when  my  passport 
was  opened  and  read,  the  officer  looked  up  with  a  most 
provoking  smile,  and  exclaimed,  "  "What !  you  an  eccle- 
siastic too ! "  then,  setting  up  a  loud  laugh,  in  which 
some  dozen  persons  present  joined,  handed  me  back  my 
papers,  as  if  he  imagined  I  was  placing  a  clever  trick, 
and  palming  myself  off  for  what  I  was  not. 

Having  escaped,  we  pursued  our  way  along  in  the 
dark,  half  asleep  and  half  awake,  until  an  extraordinary 
stir  outside  convinced  us  that  we  had  arrived  at  Padua, 
where  we  were  to  take  the  cars  for  Venice.  The  sun  was 
not  yet  up,  and  we  repaired  to  Hotel  Royal,  where  we 
arranged  our  toilet  and  prepared  for  a  new  start.  All  I 
remember  of  Padua  is  empty  streets,  rude  buildings,  a 
poor  breakfast,  an  exorbitant  price,  a  wrangle  with  the 
porter,  a  quarrel  in  the  street  with  a  man  who  wished 

47  LL* 


450  EUROPA. 

to  carry  my  carpet  bag  to  the  depot,  a  race  to  reach  the 
cars,  a  dull  stop  of  an  hour  waiting  for  them  to  start, 
and  a  comfortable  sleep  of  half  an  hour  after  leaving  the 
station.  I  did  not  stop  long  enough  in  what  appeared 
to  me  to  be  a  very  mean  Italian  town  to  see  St.  Antony's 
or  St.  Justina's,  to  visit  the  Comaro  or  the  Pisani,  but 
hurried  away  to  the  watery  empire  of  the  "  Mistress  of 
the  Hundred  Islss,"  the  gay,  proud  "Queen  of  the 
Adriatic." 


VENICE  —  VEEONA  —  MILAN.  45 1 


XXXIV. 

VENICE  —  VERONA  —  MILAN. 

There  are  few  cities  so  dreamlike  and  enchanting  as 
Venice.  We  arrived  one  morning  in  the  summer,  when 
all  nature  seemed  alive  with  beauty  and  redolent  with 
praise.  We  entered  in  the  cars,  riding  over  a  long 
bridge  of  stone,  and  landed  at  the  railway  station.  This 
bridge  connects  Venice  with  the  main  land,  and  chains 
this  daughter  of  Italia  to  her  ambitious  parent.  We 
found  at  the  railway,  instead  of  cabs  and  carriages,  such 
as  we  see  in  France  and  England,  a  long  line  of  neat 
gondolas,  each  manned,  and  ready  to  put  off  into  the  city. 

Venice  was  built  long  ago  by  refugees  from  the  main 
land,  who  fled  to  the  reeds  and  marshes  of  the  Rialto, 
and  amid  the  little  islands  built  their  houses  and  pre- 
pared their  homes.  From  the  bosom  of  the  wave  rose 
up  the  great  city,  with  its  palaces,  churches,  and  towers. 
For  a  long  time,  the  city  was  governed  by  a  doge,  as- 
sisted by  the  tribunes.  The  city  continued  to  increase ; 
the  glory  of  Venetian  arms  was  sounded  from  Constan- 
tinople to  Jerusalem ;  and  the  richness  of  her  commerce 
was  the  wonder  of  the  Archipelago.  From  a  little  city 
of  huts  and  rushes  arose  a  great  and  magnificent  repub- 
lic, and  in  the  sea  appeared  fine  edifices,  which  out- 
beautified  those  upon  the  solid  land.  Unlike  any  other 
city  on  earth,  the  seat  of  vast  wealth,  filled  with  a  joy- 
ous and  pleasure-loving  people,  it  became,  and  continued 
for  a  while,  the  most  gay  and  delightful  city  in  the  world, 


452  EUROIA. 

mocking  even  the  splendors  of  E-ome,  Florence,  and 
Ferrara.  Artists  and  poets  here  gathered  to  kindle  the 
sacred  flame  of  art;  and  men  of  commerce  here  con- 
vened to  amass  princely  fortunes.  The  lovers  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  sublime,  the  priests  of  religion,  the 
slaves  of  sensualism,  all  found  in  Venice  congenial 
pursuits  and  associates;  while  on  the  bosom  of  the 
deep,  the  "  Queen  of  the  Adriatic  "  herself  reposed,  a 
sparkling  gem  in  nature's  ephod. 

"  Underneath  day's  azure  eyes, 
Ocean's  nursling,  Venice,  lies  — 
A  peopled  labyrinth  of  walls, 
Amphitrite's  destined  halls. 
Which  her  hoary  sire  now  paves 
With  his  blue  and  beaming  waves. 
Lo,  the  sun  upsprings  behind. 
Broad,  red,  radiant,  half  reclined 
On  the  level,  quivering  line 
Of  the  waters  crystalline  ; 
And  before  that  chasm  of  light. 
As  within  a  furnace  bright, 
Column,  tower,  and  dome,  and  spire 
Shine  like  obelisks  of  fire. 
Pointing,  with  inconstant  motion, 
From  the  altar  of  dark  ocean, 
To  the  sapphire-tinted  skies. 
As  the  flames  of  sacrifice 
From  the  marble  shrines  did  rise, 
As  to  pierce  the  dome  of  gold 
Where  Apollo  spoke  of  old." 

On  leaving  the  depot,  we  entered  a  boat,  and  sailed 
by  palaces,  churches,  halls,  and  gardens,  to  a  hotel, 
situated  near  the  centre  of  the  city.  The  gondolas, 
which  are  used  instead  of  cabs,  are  long,  black,  narrow 
boats,  with  a  black  awning  to  protect  the  traveler 
from  the  rays  of  the  sun.     The  boats  are  all  of  one 


VENICE  —  VERONA  —  MILAN.  45  3 

color,  a  law  being  in  force  to  this  effect,  to  prevent  any 
extravagance  on  the  part  of  the  boatmen.  They  are  not 
so  pretty  as  those  on  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean, 
in  the  harbor  of  Marseilles  and  Genoa.  They  are  pro- 
pelled by  one  or  two  men,  who,  as  they  pull  along, 
warble  some  soft  Venetian  lay,  which,  echoing  over  the 
waters,  steals  gently  to  the  senses  with  the  most  pleas- 
ing sadness. 

As  we  rowed  on,  other  gondolas  passed  us  and  hur- 
ried by,  some  filled  with  gay,  laughing  girls,  on  some 
pleasing  errand ;  others  crowded  with  men ;  and  others, 
still,  loaded  with  baggage.  The  fares,  the  number  of 
passengers,  and  the  amount  of  baggage  to  be  carried, 
are  all  regulated  by  government,  and  each  gondolier 
carries  his  tariff  of  fares  in  his  pocket,  or  in  the  saloon 
of  his  little  vessel.  We  went  about  two  miles,  and 
drew  up  to  the  door  of  a  hotel,  the  steps  of  which  were 
washed  by  the  blue  waves.  While  my  companions 
were  negotiating  for  apartments,  I  amused  myself  in 
catching  a  large  shell  fish  on  the  steps  of  the  house, 
and  pulling  the  bunches  of  moss  and  seaweed  from  the 
front  of  the  building.  Having  made  arrangements  for 
a  day's  stop,  we  went  out  to  see  the  city,  and  enjoy  a 
sail  up  and  down  the  streets,  whose  pavements  are 
liquid  waves,  and  whose  carriages  are  black  and  som- 
bre gondolas. 

Venice  is  built  upon  seventy- two  islands,  and  is  con- 
nected by  three  himdred  and  six  bridges,  scarcely  any 
of  which  can  be  crossed  by  a  carriage.  We  went  to 
several  academies  of  art,  to  the  churches,  in  one  of 
which  is  the  tomb  of  Titian  and  the  monument  of 
Canova ;  to  the  Cathedral  of  San  Marco,  up  into  the 
high  tower,  from  which  a  view  of  the  city  is  obtained  ; 
through  St.  Mark's  Square,  up  and  down,  down  and 


454  EUROPA. 

up ;  by  the  doge's  palace  and  giant's  stairs ;  now  gaz- 
ing on  the  arch  of  the  Eialto,  and  then  upon  the  Bridge 
of  Sighs,  over  which  no  prisoner  passed  but  once.  All 
the  time  I  was  in  Venice,  I  seemed  to  be  in  a  dream; 
and  to  this  day  I  cannot  make  that  fairy  city  appear  to 
me  as  a  reality.  At  night,  as  I  sat  down  at  my  win- 
dow in  the  hotel,  below  me,  in  the  long  canal,  was 
heard  the  splash  of  the  oars,  and  the  earnest  conversa- 
tion of  the  boatmen,  as  their  gondolas  glided  along. 
The  first  object  I  saw  in  the  morning,  as  I  gazed  out, 
was  a  load  of  vegetables  and  flowers  bound  for  the 
market  of  the  city,  rowed  by  a  woman,  who  cheerily 
sang  as  she  dipped  her  oar  in  the  yielding  wave. 

The  government  of  Venice  has  always  been  noto- 
riously cruel.  The  halls  of  justice  and  the  dungeons 
of  torture  have  ever  been  near  each  other,  and  an  ac- 
cusation has  always  been  equivalent  to  conviction. 
The  priest  and  the  tyrant  have  ruled  the  "  Queen  of 
the  Sea;"  and  deeds  of  night  have  been  perpetrated 
here,  such  as  would  make  humanity  shudder.  The 
instruments  of  torture  yet  remain  to  tell  the  story  of 
deep  and  horrid  cruelty,  and  all  the  waters  of  the 
Adriatic  are  not  sufficient  to  wash  out  the  stains.  An 
instance  of  the  intolerance  of  the  irresponsible  govern- 
ment has  been  made,  by  Byron,  the  theme  of  onf  of 
his  most  beautiful  works,  the  particulars  of  which  are 
given  by  a  recent  traveler.^ 

"Wearied  with  the  cares  of  state,  and  foreseeing 
troubles  ahead,  the  old  doge  had  once  and  again  asked 
permission  to  retire  from  his  office;  but  so  far  from 
granting  his  request,  the  council  exacted  of  him  an 
oath  to  retain  it  for  life.     Three  of  his  four  sons  were 

*  Rev.  Robert  TurnbuU. 


VENICE  —  VERONA  —  MILAN.  455 

already  dead,  "hunted  down"  by  the  fell  adversaries  of 
his  house.  Giacomo,  young,  beautiful,  and  brave,  was 
his  only  pride  and  hope.  He  had  formed  a  splendid 
alliance  with  the  noble  family  of  the  Contarini,  and 
was  one  of  the  greatest  favorites  among  the  Venetians. 
But  four  years  from  his  marriage  he  was  accused  of 
having  received  presents  from  foreign  potentates  —  a 
high  crime  in  Venice;  and  in  the  presence  of  his  own 
father,  he  was  subjected  to  the  rack,  and  when  a  con- 
fession was  extorted  from  him  in  his  agony,  that  father 
was  compelled  to  pronounce  his  sentence  of  banishment 
for  life. 

"  Some  years  after,  an  assassination  occurred  in  the 
streets  of  Venice.  The  chief  of  the  Ten,  Donate,  was 
murdered  on  his  return  from  a  sitting  of  the  council, 
at  his  own  door,  by  unknown  hands.  A  victim  was  de- 
manded for  this  monstrous  offence ;  and  the  coadjutors 
of  the  slain  magistrate  eagerly  caught  at  the  slightest 
clew  which  might  lead  to  the  detection  of  the  offender. 
A  servant  of  Giacomo  Foscari  had  been  seen  in  Venice 
on  the  evening  of  the  murder;  and  it  was  said  that, 
on  being  met  by  the  chief  of  the  Ten  in  a  boat  off 
Mestre,  the  next  morning,  he  had,  in  answer  to  the 
question,  '  What  news  1 '  reported  the  assassination 
some  hours  before  it  was  generally  known.  The  ser- 
vant was  arrested,  examined,  and  barbarously  tortured ; 
but  even  the  eightieth  application  of  the  strappado 
failed  to  elicit  a  word  which  might  justify  their  suspi- 
cion. And  yet  the  young  Foscari  was  recalled,  placed 
on  the  rack  vacated  by  his  servant,  tortured  in  his 
father's  presence,  and  condemned,  although  he  per- 
sisted to  the  last  in  asserting  his  innocence.  On  this 
he  was  banished  to  a  more  distant  and  painful  exile. 
In  the  mean  while,  Niccolo  Erizzo,  a  noble  infamous 


456  EUROPA. 

for  his  crimes,  confessed  on  his  death  bed  that  it  was 
under  his  dagger  that  the  murdered  councillor  had 
fallen.  And  yet  Giacomo  Foscari  suffered  no  remis- 
sion of  his  punishment ! 

"  But  the  love  of  home  was  strong  upon  the  exile. 
Day  and  night  he  dreamed  of  his  wife  and  children, 
until  his  brain  reeled,  and  he  resolved  that  he  would 
procure  his  recall  at  any  risk.  So,  writing  to  the 
Prince  of  Milan,  imploring  his  good  offices  with  the 
senate,  he  left  the  letter  where  it  would  easily  be  found 
by  the  spies,  who  watched  him  even  in  his  exile.  The 
result  was  a  hasty  summons  to  Venice,  to  answer  for 
the  heavy  crime  of  soliciting  foreign  intercession  with 
his  native  government. 

"  For  a  third  time  Francesco  Foscari  listened  to  the 
accusation  of  his  son,  who  calmly  avowed  his  offence, 
but  stated  that  he  had  committed  it  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  being  recalled.  But  there  was  'no  flesh'  in 
the  obdurate  hearts  of  his  judges.  Thirty  times  was 
he  raised  on  '  the  accursed  cord,'  and  yet  no  false  con- 
fession came  from  the  quivering  lips  of  the  sufferer. 
Torn,  bleeding,  and  senseless,  he  was  carried  to  the 
apartments  of  the  doge,  firm  in  his  original  purpose. 
But  the  judges  were  equally  firm  in  theirs,  and  again 
renewed  his  sentence  of  exile,  with  the  addition  that 
its  first  year  should  be  spent  in  prison.  Before  his  de- 
parture, one  interview  was  permitted  with  his  family. 
The  doge,  his  father,  was  now  old  and  decrepit ;  and 
when  he  came,  supported  by  his  crutch,  into  the  cham- 
ber, he  spoke  with  great  firmness,  so  that  it  might 
appear  as  if  he  was  addressing  another  than  his  son  • 
his  only  son !  '  Go,  Giacomo,'  was  his  reply,  when 
entreated  for  the  last  time  to  solicit  mercy,  '  submit  to 
the  will  of  yom-  country,  and  seek  nothing   further.' 


VENICE  —  VERONA  —  MILAN.  45  7 

It  was  too  much  for  the  old  man ;  when  he  retired,  he 
swooned  m  the  arms  of  his  attendants.  His  son  again 
departed  into  exile,  and  was  soon  afterwards  relieved  by 
death." 

But  we  leave  Venice,  where  floods  are  dashing 
against  the  door  steps  of  the  finest  palaces,  and  men 
are  fishing  from  their  windows.  The  city  is  fast  losing 
its  glory  and  vitality.  The  palaces  are  being  deserted, 
and  one  can  be  rented  at  a  small  cost.  The  buildings, 
though  noble,  now  seem  falling  into  decay,  and  the  once 
proud  "Mistress  of  the  Hundred  Isles"  is  becoming  a 
slave  to  the  house  of  Hapsburg. 

A  ride  of  four  hours  brought  us  to  Verona,  a  rather 
mean  city  between  Venice  and  Milan.  During  the  time 
which  expired  before  we  could  "  go  ahead,"  we  went  to 
the  Amphitheater,  which  is  in  a  tolerable  state  of  pres- 
ervation, and  gives  a  fine  idea  of  such  ancient  struc- 
tures. The  seats  remain,  and  only  a  part  of  the  wall  is 
broken  down.  In  the  arena  is  a  small  wooden  building 
for  circus  purposes  —  a  striking  illustration  of  the  de- 
generacy and  decay  of  the  city.  The  little  rude  build- 
ing in  the  arena,  and  the  noble  Amphitheater  itself, 
form  a  striking  emblem  of  the  Verona  of  the  present, 
and  the  Verona  of  the  past. 

We  had  read  Shakspeare,  and  wished  to  see  the  tomb 
of  Juliet,  which  is  here.  Our  romantic  ideas  had  a  fall  ; 
and  what  a  fall!  We  entered  a  narrow  passage,  in 
which  a  man  was  washing  the  dirty  wheels  of  a  car- 
riage, and  where  were  several  horses,  which  nearly 
trampled  us  as  we  passed  on,  and  knocked  at  a  rude 
door,  which  was  opened  by  a  woman  with  a  child  in  her 
arms.  She  was  an  Italian  woman,  with  dark  skin,  coal 
black  eyes,  piercing  and  glistening,  and  a  form  as 
graceful  as  a  sibyl.     Giving  her  babe  to  another,  she 

58  MM 


458  EUROPA. 

conducted  us  through  a  stable  into  a  garden.  "We 
passed  along  under  a  heavy  overhangmg  grape  vine, 
well  hung  with  unripe  fruit,  to  a  little  chapel,  once 
used  for  devotional  purposes,  and  in  which  a  tolerable 
fresco  of  the  crucifixion  still  remains.  Here,  in  this 
chapel,  which  is  now  used  for  dovecot  and  hencoop,  a 
stone  tub  was  pointed  out  to  us  as  the  veritable  coffin 
of  Juliet.  The  hole  left  as  a  breathing-place  was 
pointed  out.  Visitors  have  broken  off  pieces  of  the 
marble,  and  carried  it  away.  We  wished  to  do  the 
same,  but  our  pretty  gypsy  guide  would  allow  of  no 
such  thing.  Dr.  M.  was  bent  on  success,  but  the 
woman  was  immovable.  He  offered  her  money,  but 
she  indignantly  replied, — 

"  No  possible  —  no  possible !  " 

He  then  tried  to  coax  her  a  little,  and  with  fair  com- 
pliments secure  a  piece  of  the  marble ;  but  though  her 
reply  to  his  persuasions  was  less  indignant  than  before, 
it  was  no  less  firmly  given :  — 

"  No  possible  —  no  possible !  " 

We  wandered  about  Verona  a  few  hours,  into  stores, 
offices,  churches,  graveyards,  and  wherever  else  we 
imagined  we  could  see  something,  hear  something,  or 
find  something  to  buy  or  beg,  to  forward  our  plans,  or 
perfect  our  knowledge  of  the  city  and  its  inhabitants. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  we  took  the  diligence, 
and  jolted  on  until  eleven,  when  we  stopped  an  hour  to 
take  supper  in  a  town  with  an  outlandish  name,  which 
I  have  forgotten.  Supper  being  swallowed,  we  pressed 
on  by  diligence  and  railway  to  Milan,  where  we  arrived 
on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  July.  Here,  to  cele- 
brate the  day,  I  went  to  bed  sick,  having  overtaxed  my- 
self for  the  few  days  previous  by  overeating,  overriding, 
and   overworking.     At  night,  I  went  out   to   see  the 


VENICE  —  VERONA  —  MILAN.  459 

Milan  Cathedral,  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  the 
pointed  Gothic  architecture  in  the  world.  It  struck 
me  more  impressively  than  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  Any 
description  would  fail  to  do  justice  to  the  noble  design 
and  the  exquisite  finish.  One  involuntarily  uncovers  his 
head,  and  feels  a  profound  awe  creeping  over  him,  as  he 
walks  up  the  magnificent  nave.  In  one  of  the  chapels, 
a  funeral  service  was  being  performed  by  several  priests. 
The  coffin  and  the  mourners  were  present.  As  I  stood 
looking  on,  I  felt  my  handkerchief  sliding  out  of  my 
pocket,  and  on  turning  round  abruptly,  saw  a  great 
awkward  fellow  with  it  in  his  hands.  I  laid  one  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  seized  the  handkerchief  with  the 
other.  For  a  moment,  the  thief  showed  fight ;  he  jab- 
bering in  Italian,  Avhile  I  scolded  in  English.  The 
priests  turned  round,  the  people  appeared  horror-struck, 
but  I  still  held  on  to  the  article.  The  fellow,  seeing 
that  he  should  get  into  trouble,  gave  up,  and  devoutly 
crossing  himself,  moved  away,  an  admirable  specimen 
of  Italian  Christians.  Had  he  stolen  the  handkerchief 
there  in  the  cathedral  before  the  altar,  one  of  those  very 
priests  would  have  absolved  him  from  all  sin  for  a  single 
franc,  and  satisfied  his  conscience  by  an  act  of  priestly 
forgiveness.  I  blame  the  religion,  and  not  the  man. 
The  Catholic  church  is  admirably  calculated  to  produce 
all  kinds  of  crime,  and  she  is  responsible  for  the  present 
state  of  morals  in  continental  Europe. 

At  Milan,  in  an  old  convent,  now  used  for  a  stable 
and  for  barracks,  is  the  original  painting  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci.  It  has  been  retouched  until  its  former  beauty 
is  gone,  and  yet,  as  the  original  of  the  multitude  of 
imitations,  it  is  an  object  of  great  interest. 

Milan  is  a  fine  city,  but  I  did  not  see  much  of  it.  It 
has  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  inhabitants. 


460  EUEOPA. 

The  Austrians  have  possession  of  it,  and  contrary  to  my 
expectations,  I  found  them  civil  and  obliging.  Both 
here  and  at  Venice,  we  were  treated  with  more  genuine 
good  manners  by  the  officers  than  down  in  the  dirty 
dominions  of  the  pope ;  and  were  I  to-day  in  trouble  in 
Europe,  I  should  expect  more  justice  in  Vienna  than  at 
Rome. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  leave  Italy,  the  land  of 
flowers  and  fruits,  poets  and  painters.  The  finest  of  all 
lands,  it  lives  under  a  bitter  curse.  The  hand  of  God  is, 
on  it,  withering  its  flowers  and  threatening  wo  to  the 
people.  Priestcraft  and  kingcraft  are  doing  what  for- 
eign armies  and  invading  forces  never  could  do.  The 
pope's  foot  is  on  the  track  of  progress,  and  his  iron 
hand  is  raised  against  the  spread  of  truth.  An  Italian 
patriot,^  weeping  for  his  country,  thus  exclaims :  — 

"  O  thou  devoted  land,  that  canst  not  rear 

In  peace  thine  offspring  !  thou  the  lost  and  won, 

The  fair  and  fatal  soil,  that  dost  appear 

Too  narrow  still  for  each  contending  son  ! 

Receive  the  stranger  in  his  fierce  career, 

Parting  the  spoils  !  thy  chastening  has  begun  ! 

And  wresting  from  thy  kings  the  guardian  sword, 
Foes  whom  thou  ne'er  hadst  wronged  sit  proudly  at  thy  board." 

As  the  traveler  pursues  his  way  from  the  palaces  of 
Naples  up  to  the  foot  of  the  Alps,  he  forgets,  in  the 
present  degradation  of  the  people,  that  this  is  the  land 
of  Dante,  Michael  Angelo,  Petrarch,  and  Manzoni, 
"  Genius  is  dead,"  he  will  declare,  as  he  sees  a  race  of 
beggars  thronging  the  Capitol,  and  whining  at  the  door 
of  the  Vatican.  "  This  is  not  Italy,"  he  will  affirm, 
as  he  inquires  in  vain  for  Csesar's  glory  and  Nero's 
pride. 

'  Alessandro  Manzoni. 


VENICE  — VERONA  — MILAN.  46X 

"  Italia  !  O  Italia !  thou  who  hast 
The  fatal  gift  of  beauty  which  became 
A  funeral  dower  of  present  woes  and  past, 
On  thy  sweet  brow  is  sorrow  ploughed  by  shame, 
And  annals  graved  in  characters  of  flame. 
O  God  !  that  thou  wert  in  thy  nakedness 
Less  lovely  or  more  powerful,  and  couldst  claim 
Thy  right,  and  awe  the  robbers  back,  who  press 

To  shed  thy  blood  and  drink  the  tears  of  thy  distress,"  ^ 

But  how  vain  are  all  the  sad  songs  which  are  sung, 
and  all  the  wails  of  sorrows  which  are  uttered,  over  the 
fallen,  disgraced  land  of  the  emperors  and  the  popes ! 
Italy  has  chosen  her  own  lot,  and  followed  her  own 
destiny.  Her  degradation  is  self-imposed,  and  her  suf- 
ferings are  of  her  own  making.  She  has  voluntarily 
relinquished  her  claim  to  the  improvements  of  science, 
and  the  benefits  of  the  word  of  God,  and  stands  out 
an  example  of  mistaken  zeal,  blinded  enthusiasm,  and 
unmitigated  cruelty. 

'  Byron. 

MM* 


462  EUROPiL 


XXXV. 

THE  ALPS  — PASS   OF  THE  SIMPLON. 

t 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  when  we  jolted  out  of  Milan. 
The  sun  was  just  gilding  the  turrets  and  pinnacles  of 
the  magnificent  cathedral  as  we  turned  our  backs  upon 
fair  Italia.  Soon  all  the  beautiful  buildings  and  the 
works  of  human  art  were  left  behind,  and  an  unabridged 
edition  of  nature  was  before  us.  The  lower  Alps  were 
soon  reached,  and  in  the  hazy  atmosphere  presented  an 
ever-varying  appearance,  now  rough  and  rugged,  and 
then  the  smoothly-rounded  cone ;  now  bare  and  desolate, 
and  anon  crowned  with  verdure  and  covered  with  foliage. 
And  soon  the  higher  Alps  were  gained,  all  misty  and 
dim,  and  having  on  the  everlasting  nightcap  of  snow 
and  ice.  We  crossed  the  Toccia  on  a  swing  boat  ferry, 
and  rode  along  the  shores  of  Lake  Maggiore,  within 
sight  of  the  picturesque  Island  of  Isola  Bella,  which 
rises  from  the  bosom  of  the  dark  wave  like  a  star  shining 
through  a  night  cloud.  The  road  all  along  was  delight- 
ful and  pleasant.  Formed  for  the  march  of  armies,  it  was 
broad,  smooth,  level,  and  destitute  of  ruts  and  gullies. 
It  winds  around  the  base  of  the  mountains,  whose  sides 
are  covered  with  vines  and  foliage  of  various  kinds,  from 
out  of  which  peep  now  and  then  the  cottage  of  the 
peasant,  the  church  tower,  and  the  huriible  unostenta- 
tious village,  and  whose  summits  are  concealed  by  the 
ever- shifting  clouds. 

A  whole  day  was  passed  in  the  diligence,  during  which 


THE  ALrS  — PASS  OF  THE  SIMPLON.       463 

we  amused  ourselves  as  best  we  could,  discussing  ques- 
tions of  politics,  morals,  and  religion ;  gazing  with 
admiration  upon  the  magnificent  scenery  through 
which  we  rode;  and  often  wandering  back  to  the  less 
poetic  clime  from  which  we  had  journeyed,  but  which 
had  a  greener  and  fresher  place  in  our  remembrance 
than  any  land  we  had  seen,  or  any  city  whose  hospi 
tality  we  had  shared.  We  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
Simplon,  and  entered  the  grand  j)ass,  just  at  nightfall, 
and,  until  nine  the  next  morning,  continued  to  ascend 
over  the  splendid  road  which  the  genius  of  Napoleon 
built  amid  those  frowning  hights,  and  over  which  his 
armies  passed  in  midwinter,  now  overwhelmed  by  the 
avalanche,  and  anon  emerging  from  the  danger,  to  pour 
themselves  upon  the  smiling  fields  below.  The  scenery 
was  wild  and  awful.  On  one  side  of  us  towered  the 
high  peaks,  from  which  swept  down  the  cold,  icy  wind ; 
on  the  other  side  were  deep  ravines  and  terrible  preci- 
pices, which  yawned  as  if  eager  to  devour  an  army. 
Now  we  passed  the  refuge  houses  ;  the  convent,  at  the 
gate  of  which  stood  a  large  St.  Bernard  dog  ready  for 
duty;  beautiful  cascades  leaping  down  from  cliiF  to 
cliff;  piles  of  snow  in  midsummer ;  and  many  a  huge 
rock  projecting  overhead,  and  ready  to  fall  upon  the 
head  of  the  traveler.  Yet  higher  up  we  go,  until  the 
cross,  which  marks  the  turning-point,  standing  in  its 
loneliness,  is  seen,  a  truthful  emblem,  suggesting  holy 
thoughts  to  the  traveler  in  his  dreary  march. 

The  most  terrible  moment  spent  in  crossing  the  Sim- 
plon is  that  which  is  required  to  penetrate  the  gorge 
of  Gondo,  a  magnificent  gallery,  cut  five  hundred  and 
ninety-six  feet  through  the  hard  rock,  down  over  which 
the  water  tumbles  with  ceaseless  roar.  The  first  thought 
which  rushes  through  the  mind,  while  in  this  splendid 


464  EUROPA. 

passage,  is  of  the  greatness  of  God,  The  Christian 
hears  his  voice  in  the  roar  of  the  waterfall,  and  sees  his 
form  in  the  silent  grandeur  of  the  hights  above  and  the 
caverns  below.  The  next  thought  will  pay  a  voluntary 
tribute  to  the  mighty  genius  of  the  conquering  hero,  at 
whose  command  this  road  was  built.  An  ordinary  man 
never  would  have  made  the  attempt;  the  stupendous 
idea  of  cutting  out,  not  a  little  footpath,  but  a  broad 
road,  over  which  regiments  of  artillery  might  march. 
Napoleon  alone  could  originate.  Whatever  we  may 
think  of  his  moral  character,  and  however  much  we 
may  denounce  his  unconquerable  ambition,  we  can  but 
admire  his  lofty  genius  and  determined  energy.  His 
mind  was  fitted  for  conquests ;  and  his  soul  rose  above 
the  difficulties  which  nature  placed  in  his  way.  In 
those  broad  roads  across  the  Simplon,  the  Si)lugen,  and 
St,  Bernard,  and  in  the  improvements  which  he  made 
at  Rome,  Naples,  and  in  Spain,  we  have  an  idea  of  the 
sublime  plan  —  sublime,  though  murderous  —  on  which 
he  acted.  Though  accustomed  to  the  confusion  of  battle 
and  the  din  of  war,  his  taste  for  the  true  and  beautiful 
may  be  gathered  from  projected  improvements,  which 
were  abandoned  in  consequence  of  his  fall,  in  Italy, 
Germany,  and  also  in  his  own  beloved  France,  The 
beauties  of  "Wilhelmshohe,  and  the  adornment  of  many 
a  fancy  spot,  may  be  traced  to  the  designs  of  the  con- 
queror. 

All  that  night  we  continued  to  climb,  the  impres- 
sions of  awe  becoming  deeper  every  moment.  There 
is  every  thing  in  that  wild  scene  to  make  one  forget  the 
narrow  occupations  of  earth,  and  lift  up  his  soul  to 
God.  The  stupendous  hights;  the  yawning  caverns; 
the  everlastling  roar  of  the  descending  torrents;  the 
dark   night   and   the  dawning   morning;    the   hospice 


THE   ALPS  — PASS   OF   THE    SIMPLON.  465 

of  the  monks;  the  exposure  to  the  descending  ava- 
lanche ;  the  galleries  hewn  out  of  solid  rock,  dripping 
with  water  and  hung  with  icicles;  the  wet,  misty 
clouds  which  now  sweep  down  upon  us,  and  anon 
roll  back,  and  leave  us  in  moonlight  and  starlight, — 
all  increase  the  interest  and  awfulness  of  the  ascent. 
The  cold  was  intense,  though  not  greater  than  we  ex- 
pected. The  snow  was  lying  in  drifts  on  the  sides  of 
the  mountains  ;  and  above  us,  in  the  gorges,  shone  the 
glaciers.  In  one  single  night,  we  had  passed  from  the 
summer  of  Italy  to  the  cold,  ceaseless  winter  scenes  of 
the  hoary  Alps.  The  green,  vine-clad  fields  were  ex- 
changed for  long,  deep  drifts  of  snow  which  never 
melt,  and  glaciers  which  never  cease  to  shine. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  holy  Sabbath  when  we 
reached  the  cross  which  tells  where  the  ascent  ends  and 
the  descent  begins,  and  denotes  the  altitude  of  the  pass. 
It  was  good  thus  to  be  in  the  midst  of  nature's  works 
on  such  a  day.  There  were  no  regiments  of  soldiers, 
no  chanting  choirs,  no  robed  priests,  but  God  was 
there  in  that  awful  solitude ;  and  as  I  paused  at  that 
cross,  the  sacred  emblem  of  the  believer's  faith,  the 
sublime  words  of  Bowring  ran  though  my  mind  and 
trembled  on  my  lips  :  — 

"  In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory, 

Towering  e'er  the  works  of  time ; 
All  the  light  of  sacred  story 

Gathers  round  its  head  sublime." 

Down  we  rolled,  rattling  along,  now  holding  on  to 
the  side  of  the  rickety  diligence,  anon  bursting  forth 
with  exclamations  of  surprise  at  the  grand  and  awful 
scenes  around  us.  The  passage  of  the  Alps  is  not 
attended,  in  summer,  with  any  particular  danger ;  but 
59 


466  EUROPA. 

ill  winter  the  traveler  encounters  fearful  penis.  He  is 
liable,  while  passing  through  the  gorges,  to  be  over- 
whelmed by  the  avalanche  which  sweeps  down  with 
such  terrible  fury  and  such  overpowering  might.  The 
French  armies  crossed  the  Alps  in  midwinter,  and,  led 
by  Napoleon  and  his  valorous  marshals,  in  spite  of  all 
the  difficulties,  threw  themselves  upon  the  cities  of 
Italy,  ere  men  had  ceased  to  wonder  at  such  boldness. 
On  our  way  down,  we  came  to  Brieg,  a  little,  miser- 
able town,  on  the  Swiss  side;  and  here  we  dined.  It 
was  Sabbath  on  the  Alps,  but  in  this  little  Catholic 
village  it  was  training  day.  Some  kind  of  a  religious 
celebration  was  in  progress.  A  procession  passed 
through  the  streets  to  the  village  church,  which  was 
decorated  with  evergreen  and  filled  with  people.  This 
procession  was  a  most  singular  one,  and  consisted  of  a 
strangely  mixed  company.  First  came  a  band  of  music, 
as  uncouth  and  discordant  as  one  could  imagine,  such 
as  we  might  suppose  would  be  made  by  a  company  of 
boys  with  tin  horns  and  pans,  who  were  endeavoring  to 
drown  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive;  then  followed 
several  young  men,  grotesquely  dressed,  one  as  an  old 
feudal  lord,  one  as  a  gay  knight  in  full  armor,  one  as 
a  Highlander,  and  so  through  a  great  variety  of  fantas- 
tic costumes  ;  then  followed  five  or  six  well-fed,  portly 
Jesuits,  in  long  black  robes  and  three-cornered  hats, 
who  walked  as  demurely  as  if  they  were  doing  a  very 
religious  thing ;  behind  followed  a  crowd  of  people  of 
all  ages  and  conditions.  The  procession  moved  on  to 
the  church,  where  some  service  was  held ;  but  we  did 
not  care  to  follow.  That  this  had  any  thing  to  do  with 
religion,  we  could  hardly  imagine ;  and  we  can  scarcely 
conceive  of  any  greater  abomination  than  such  irrevei 
ence  offered  to  the  God  of  grace. 


THE   ALPS  — PASS   OF   THE   SIMPLON.  467 

I  was  pleased  with  a  hat  which  the  ladies  in  the 
street  wore  on  this  Sabbath  day.  It  was  of  straw  or 
silk,  formed  like  a  gentleman's  beaver,  with  a  low 
crown  and  wide  rim.  Around  the  hat  was  a  band  of 
crape  or  ribin,  while  the  whole  was  tastefully  adorned 
and  trimmed  with  jjurple,  pink,  or  gilt.  This  is  the 
only  town  in  which  we  saw  these  headdresses  to  any 
extent.  Those  that  were  made  well  were  very  becom- 
ing, and  were  well  adapted  to  show  a  pretty  face  to 
advantage.  One  of  our  company  caught  one  of  the 
young  women  as  she  passed,  and  persuaded  her  to  take 
off  her  hat  and  allow  him  to  examine  it ;  and  when  he 
returned  it,  she  seemed  quite  gratified  at  the  compli- 
ment. The  day  seemed  very  unlike  the  Sabbath ;  and 
I  could  but  contrast  its  observance  in  this  Catholic  vil 
lage  with  the  quietness  and  order  of  an  English  or  an 
American  Sabbath.  Here  all  was  mirth,  confusion, 
beating  of  drums,  shouting  of  the  mob,  festivity,  and 
sin ;  in  the  Protestant  town,  order,  quiet,  and  a  heav- 
enly calm  reigns. 


468  EUROPA. 


XXXVI. 

SWITZERLAND  — LAUSANNE    AND   GENEVA. 

We  left  Brieg  in  the  afternoon,  and  after  a  hard, 
fatiguing  ride,  arrived  early  the  next  morning  at  Lau- 
sanne, where  we  tarried  a  while.  The  contrast  between 
this  place  and  the  cities  on  the  other  side  of  the  Alps 
was  very  favorable  to  the  foraier.  We  could  see  that 
we  had  passed  from  a  region  of  filth  and  indolence  to 
a  quiet,  industrious,  well-ordered  country ;  and  Protes- 
tant Smtzerland,  though  denied  the  natural  advantages 
of  Papal  Italy,  seemed  to  us  a  paradise  compared  with 
the  lazy  monks  and  dirty  streets  of  the  cities  of  the 
pope.  Near  the  hotel  at  which  we  took  breakfast  is 
the  old  house  of  Edward  Gibbon,  and  the  garden  of 
our  hotel  was  once  the  arbor  in  which  he  wrote  the 
last  page  of  his  work,  "  The  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire."  We  wandered  over  the  town,  saw 
whatever  was  to  be  seen,  and  again  entering  the  dili- 
gence, started  for  Geneva.  The  road  winds  along  the 
shores  of  Lake  Leman,  and  at  every  turn  brings  some  J 
new  scene  of  beauty  to  the  view.  The  lake  itself,  as  ^ 
one  says,  "  lies  in  the  shape  of  a  half  moon,  with  the 
horns  curved  towards  the  south,  and  is  the  largest  lake 
in  Switzerland,  being  fifty-five  miles  long."  The  waters 
are  clear,  and  reflect,  as  in  a  polished  mirror,  the  sky, 
the  birds  which  hover  over  or  fly  across  it,  and  the  tiny 
ships  which  float  upon  its  surface.  The  banks  rise 
gradually,  covered  with   objects  of  beauty,   from   the 


SWITZERLAND  — LAUSANNE    AND   GENEVA.  469 

water  side  to  the  towering  mountain,  and  the  eye  rests 
upon  a  scene  of  delightful  magnificence,  wander  which 
way  it  may,  from  the  lone  rock  in  the  sparkling  deep, 
on  which  stands  the  Castle  of  Chillon,  the  prison  of 
Bonnivrad,,  up  to  the  old  snow-crowned  summit  of 
Mont  Blanc. 

Nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  the  appear- 
ance of  Geneva,  as  we  entered  it  one  afternoon,  weary 
and  hungry.  The  peo]3le  were  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
national  festival.  Arches  spanned  the  streets ;  flags  of 
various  colors  were  suspended  from  the  windows ;  mot- 
toes, wreaths,  and  evergreens  adorned  the  public  and 
private  buildings,  and  music  was  sounding  in  every 
street.  The  inhabitants,  dressed  in  gala  day  attire,  filled 
the  streets ;  cannon  sounded  from  the  neighboring 
hights ;  bells  sent  out  a  merry  peal  from  every  tower ; 
and  all  the  various  signs  of  some  great  fete  met  us  at 
every  step  we  took.  The  occasion  of  all  this,  we  were 
told,  was  the  occurrence  of  the  annual  shooting  match, 
which  calls  together  multitudes  from  all  parts  of  Swit- 
zerland. This  festival  is  conducted  somewhat  on  the 
following  plan:  The  people  of  the  various  cantons 
come  together,  and  spend  a  whole  week  in  target  shoot- 
ing. Prizes  of  from  five  francs  to  five  thousand  francs 
are  awarded ;  and  on  this  occasion  it  was  estimated  that 
forty  thousand  persons  from  abroad  were  in  the  city. 
The  shooting  ground  was  laid  out  in  an  open  square, 
inclosed  on  all  sides  by  temporary  buildings,  erected  for 
the  purpose.  On  the  front  side  was  a  stupendous 
wooden  arch,  under  which  the  masses  enter  the  grounds. 
This  arch  was  gayly  decorated  with  flowers  and  festoons, 
giving  it  quite  a  fairy-like  appearance.  On  the  right, 
as  we  entered,  was  a  long  pile  of  buildings  for  the  sale 
of  fancy  articles,  such  as  visitors  would  wish  to  carry 

NN 


470  EUROPA. 

away  with  them  to  their  distant  homes.  On  the  left 
was  a  monstrous  eating-house,  rough,  but  neat  and  com- 
fortable, and  which,  some  one  said  to  us,  would  seat  live 
thousand  persons  at  once.  In  the  background,  opposite 
the  entrance,  were  the  buildings  for  the  shooters.  This 
was  divided  into  different  compartments,  each  having  a 
clerk,  who  kept  an  account  of  the  shots  fired.  The 
targets  were  in  the  rear,  at  a  distance,  as  I  was  told,  of 
four  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  The  Swiss  carabine  was 
employed  by  the  marksmen,  and  they  used  it  with  won- 
derful accuracy.  In  the  center  of  the  open  square  was 
a  small  circular  oratory,  or  glass  house,  a  sort  of 
crystal  palace,  in  which  were  the  prizes.  The  building 
being  of  glass,  the  prizes,  which  were  hung  up,  could 
be  seen.  Here  were  purses,  through  which  the  shining 
gold  could  be  seen,  silver  and  gold  plate,  splendid 
watches,  musical  instruments,  and  such  like.  The 
number  of  competitors  was  very  large.  A  hundred 
guns  were  cracking  at  once,  and  this  was  kept  up  for 
days  together.  Some  fire  many  times  during  the  week, 
thus  increasing  the  chance  of  obtaining  a  prize.  As  far 
as  I  could  see,  the  whole  affair  was  an  honest  sort  of 
competition,  and  much  more  reasonable  than  the  fete 
days  of  Italian  saints. 

The  difference  between  a  Protestant  and  a  Catholic 
country  was  more  apparent  here  than  at  Lausanne,  and 
the  more  we  saw,  the  more  fully  were  we  convinced  of 
the  value  of  the  religion  of  the  Bible.  Our  stay  in 
Geneva  lasted  but  a  few  days,  and  these  were  spent  de- 
lightfully. One  of  the  first  objects  of  interest  was  the 
house  in  which  Calvin  lived,  situated  in  an  obscure 
street.  We  entered  the  dark  and  dismal  gateway,  and 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  room  which  was  once  the 
study  of  the  reformer.     Up  these  very  stairs,  and  into 


SWITZERLAND  — LAUSANNE  AND  GENEVA.     471 

this  cheerless  study,  the  men  who  were  associated  with 
Calvin  went,  and  held  communion.  Kindred  spirits 
they  were,  engaged  in  a  kindred  cause.  Here  those 
volumes  were  written  which  have  left  such  an  indelible 
impress  upon  the  world  —  indelible  because  they  only 
echo  the  teachings  of  God.  Here  the  prayers  were 
offered  which  went  up  to  God,  and  moved  his  gracious 
will,  and  drew  upon  the  supplicant  such  a  measure  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Here  were  arranged  those  mighty 
schemes  to  disinthrall  the  human  mind,  the  influence 
of  which  we  have  not  yet,  and  never  shall  cease  to  feel. 
The  house  is  now  occupied  by  those  who  scarcely  know 
the  name  of  Calvin,  and  who  look  upon  those  who 
come  with  reverence  to  survey  the  premises  very  much 
as  the  barbarians  of  Italy  look  upon  the  artists  who 
cross  sea  and  land  to  study  the  works  of  the  great  mas- 
ters, or  as  the  infidels  of  Jerusalem  look  upon  those 
who  come  on  pilgrim  feet  to  bow  in  sad  Gethsemane, 
or  weep  in  sadness  over  the  sepulcher  of  Jesus. 

From  the  house  of  Calvin  we  go  to  the  old  Church  of 
St.  Peter,  where  he  used  to  preach.  It  was  refreshing 
to  see  a  church  without  candles,  crosses,  ornaments,  and 
statues.  The  edifice  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  plain 
Gothic,  having  its  vane,  aisles,  and  pulpit,  the  canopy 
of  which  once  hung  down  over  the  head  of  Calvin. 
There  is  a  richness  and  freshness  in  the  church,  so  dif- 
ferent from  the  cathedrals  of  Catholic  countries,  that 
one  breathes  freely,  and  feels  that  he  is  in  the  temple 
of  God,  and  not  in  a  playhouse,  where  the  actors  are 
monks,  and  the  play  a  burlesque  on  the  religion  of 
Christ.  But  alas !  the  pure  and  life-giving  doctrines 
once  taught  here  by  the  reformer  are  taught  here  no 
longer.  The  rank  weeds  of  error  have  gro^vn  up,  and 
are  checking  the  growth  of  the  pure  faith  of  the  Bible. 


472  EUROPA. 

The  multitudes  who  tread  the  marble  pavements  are 
taught  to  deny  the  most  precious  truths  which  Calvin 
uttered,  and  are  led  backward  towards  the  corrupt 
church  of  Rome. 

From  the  house  and  church  of  Calvin  it  is  natural 
that  we  should  go  to  his  grave,  which  is  in  a  field  of 
tombs  just  without  the  city.  The  grave  of  the  great 
and  good  man  is  here  all  unhonored.  A  simple  square 
stone  is  over  it,  rising  about  a  foot  from  the  ground,  on 
which  are  the  simple  letters,  "  J.  C,"  put  there  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  own  dying  injunction,  in  which  he 
strictly  forbade  the  erection  of  a  costly  monument.  Cal- 
vin is  the  great  man  in  the  history  of  Geneva,  and  has 
given  to  it  a  fame  and  glory  which  no  other  name  has 
ever  conferred,  and  we  should  think  the  people  would 
rise  above  even  his  dying  instructions,  and  erect  some 
enduring  tribute  to  his  fame.  And  yet  what  is  a  stone 
jiillar,  or  a  marble  sarcophagus,  for  such  a  man  as 
Calvin  %  Are  not  his  life  and  labors  a  monument 
higher  and  nobler  than  any  lifeless  shaft  which  man 
could  raise  above  his  grave? 

In  this  same  graveyard  with  Calvin  sleeps  Sir 
Humphry  Davy,  under  a  simple  stone,  with  a  modest 
epitaph.  Well,  he  could  afford  to  do  without  a  eulogy 
or  a  long  inscription.  Point  out  the  grave,  and  though 
no  stone  marks  it,  and  no  flower  blooms  over  it,  men 
will  stop  long  beside  it. 

The  library  of  Geneva  is  valuable  as  a  collection  of 
ancient  manuscripts,  and  several  antique  pictures  and 
portraits  of  great  value.  The  number  of  books  is  not 
large,  but  choice,  and  a  half  day  is  spent  very  profitably 
here  in  looking  over  copies  of  works  which  have  stirred 
the  world  in  their  times,  and  which  have  long  since 
been  laid  aside,  and  their  places  taken  by  others,  better 


SWITZERLAND  — LAUSANNE   AND   GENEVA.  473 

adapted  in  style  and  thought  to  the  improved  state  of 
society  and  manners. 

Here  at  Geneva  lives  J.  H.  Merle  d'Aubigne,  one  of 
the  greatest  men  of  his  times.  We  were  not  fortunate 
enough  to  see  him,  having  overrun,  in  some  other  excur- 
sion, the  time  set  by  him  for  us  to  call.  His  name  is 
honored  at  Geneva,  and  all  classes  regard  him  as  a 
giant  in  mind,  and  a  saint  in  piety.  His  influence  is 
very  great,  and  all  wielded  for  God  and  his  sacred 
cause.  We  went  into  the  little  chapel  where  he  and  his 
associates  declare  the  word  of  life  to  the  Genevans.  It 
is  a  poor  aflair,  not  half  as  comfortable  as  the  lecture- 
room  of  our  own  church.  We  thought  how  fortunate 
the  people  must  be  who  can  sit  beneath  the  ministra- 
tions of  such  a  man,  and  how  grateful  must  they  — 
should  they  be ! 

All  my  remembrances  of  Switzerland  are  pleasant. 
The  rocky  land  of  Tell,  though  mountainous  and  icy, 
has  fields  as  green  and  hearts  as  warm  as  any  other 
country  on  the  globe,  and  at  Lausanne  and  Geneva 
were  spent  by  our  little  party  some  most  pleasant  hours. 

"  'Twas  not  for  fiction  chose  Rousseau  this  spot, 

Peopling  it  with  affections  ;  but  he  found 

It  was  the  scene  which  passion  must  allot 

To  the  mind's  purified  beings  ;  'twas  the  ground 

Where  early  love  his  Psyche's  zone  unbound, 

And  hallowed  it  with  loveliness  ;   'tis  lone, 

And  wonderful,  and  deep,  and  hath  a  sound, 

And  sense,  and  sight  of  sweetness  ;  here  the  Rhone 
Hath  spread  himself  a  couch,  the  Alps  have  reared  a  throne. 

"  Lausanne  and  Ferney  !  ye  have  been  the  abodes 
Of  names  which  unto  you  bequeathed  a  name  ; 
Mortals  who  sought  and  found,  by  dangerous  roads, 
A  path  to  perpetuity  of  fame  ; 

60  NN* 


474  EUROPA. 

They  were  gigantic  minds,  and  their  steep  aim 
Was,  Titan-like,  on  daring  doubts  to  pile 
Thoughts  which  should  call  down  thunder,  and  the  flame 
Of  Heaven,  again  assailed,  if  Heaven  the  while 
On  man  and  man's  research  could  deign  do  more  than  smile." 

At  Geneva  I  parted  with  my  traveling  companions, 
with  whom  I  sailed  from  America,  and  whose  society  I 
had  enjoyed  thus  far.  They  were  previously  bent  on 
seeing  something  more  of  the  Alps,  and  were  determined 
to  have  a  slide  in  the  Vale  of  Chamouni,  while  I  was  as 
eager  to  see  more  of  England,  the  dear  old  fatherland, 
and  become  acquainted  with  the  men  of  that  noble 
country. 

"  What  are  mountains  to  a  man  ?  " 

So  I  bade  adieu  to  "  Alps  on  Alps,"  to  the  cold,  shining 
glacier,  to  old  Mont  Blanc,  which  reared  itself  within 
sight  of  my  hotel  window,  and  all  their  majestic  scenes. 
I  said  "  farewell "  to  the  land  of  Calvin ;  to  his  unhon- 
ored  grave.  I  turned  one  look  on  the  placid  waters  of 
Lake  Leman,  and  murmured  "  adieu." 

"  Clear,  placid  Leman  !  thy  contrasted  lake 
With  the  wild  world  I  dwelt  in  is  a  thing 
Which  warns  me,  with  its  stillness,  to  forsake 
Earth's  troubled  waters  for  a  purer  spring  : 
This  quiet  sail  is  as  a  noiseless  wing 
To  waft  me  from  destruction ;  once  I  loved 
Torn  ocean's  roar,  but  thy  soft  murmuring 
Sounds  sweet  as  if  a  sister's  voice  reproved 
That  I  with  stern  delights  should  e'er  have  been  so  moved. 

"  It  is  the  hush  of  night,  and  all  between 
Thy  margin  and  the  mountains  dusk,  yet  clear, 
Mellowed  and  mingling,  yet  distinctly  seen, 
Save  darkened  Jura,  whose  capped  bights  appear 
Precipitously  steep ;  and  drawing  near 


SWITZERLAND— LAUSANNE  AND   GENEVA.  475 

There  breathes  a  living  fragrance  from  the  shore 
Of  flowers  yet  fresh  with  childhood  ;  on  the  ear 
Drops  the  light  drip  of  the  suspended  oar, 
Or  chirps  the  grasshopper  one  good  night  carol  more. 

"  At  intervals  some  bird  from  out  the  brakes 
Starts  into  voice  a  moment,  then  is  still ; 
There  seems  a  floating  whisper  on  the  hill, 
But  that  is  fancy  ;  for  the  starlight  dews 
All  silently  their  tears  of  love  instil, 
Weeping  themselves  away." 

I  engaged  my  passage  in  the  diligence  for  Dijon, 
which  started  at  midnight.  I  arrived  at  the  office  a  few 
minutes  before  the  time  for  leaving,  and  found  two  men 
asleep  in  the  apartment  which  I  was  to  occupy  during  a 
ride  of  some  fifteen  or  twenty  hours.  As  I  clambered 
in,  I  could  see  nothing  but  two  enormous  beards,  which 
appeared  ferociously  black,  as  the  light  of  the  con- 
ductor's lantern  shone  upon  them ;  I  could  hear  nothing 
but  the  wild  snort  of  the  sleepers,  who  doubtless  were 
afflicted  with  nightmare ;  I  could  smell  nothing  but  to- 
bacco, as  if  they  had  smoked  themselves  to  sleep,  and 
were  dozing  on  quantities  of  the  smuggled  weed;  I 
could  feel  nothing  but  four  legs,  which  seemed  to  be  so 
arranged  as  to  fill  the  whole  space,  forming  a  St. 
Andrew's  cross.  An  expressive  grunt  answered  my 
courteous  inquiry  for  a  seat,  and  a  low,  deep  curse,  in 
English,  informed  me  that  I  had  trodden  upon  the  toe 
of  one  of  my  cosy  companions.  However,  I  was  used 
to  this  mode  of  living,  and  so  prepared  myself  to  con- 
tend for  my  rights,  which  were  soon  yielded  to  me. 
Across  bridges,  through  gateways,  along  streets,  over 
pavements,  up  hill,  down  hill,  jolting,  rumbling,  turn- 
ing round,  going  ahead,  we  went  out  of  Geneva,  over 
the  Jura  Mountains,  through  a  country  grandly  beau- 
tiful and  infinitely  diversified. 


476  -EUROPA. 


XXXVII. 

FRANCE  AND  ENGLAND. 

All  night,  all  day  we  rode,  until  some  time  the  next 
afternoon,  I  think  it  was,  we  found  ourselves  driven  into 
the  yard  of  a  French  custom-house.  The  discovery  of  a 
lot  of  Swiss  jewelry  on  the  person  of  one  of  our  fellow- 
travelers  led  the  officers  to  be  exceedingly  rigid  in  their 
examinations.  One  of  us  they  had  discovered  to  be  a 
rogue,  and  as  several  of  us  were  of  one  language,  they 
concluded  we  all  belonged  to  one  company.  So,  with 
many  a  suspicious  look,  and  many  a  dark  frown,  they 
overhauled  our  dirty  and  ragged  clothing,  expecting  at 
every  turn  to  make  some  wonderful  discovery.  I  had 
started  from  Geneva  sooner  than  had  been  arranged, 
and  was  obliged  to  take  some  of  my  clothing  out  of  the 
wash  tub,  undried  and  unsmoothed.  Packing  in  a  bag 
several  articles  with  the  water  well  drained  out,  I  threw 
them  on  the  diligence,  and  they  jolted  to  the  French 
frontier.  The  official  came  suddenly  upon  this  bag  of 
wet  clothes,  and  at  once  was  in  "the  suds"  indeed. 
What  to  make  of  such  a  bundle  he  did  not  know,  but 
concluded  that  something  must  be  wrong  about  it,  as 
in  all  his  history  as  a  revenue  collector  he  had  never 
known  a  traveler  to  journey  with  his  clothing  in  such 
a  plight.  But  after  the  most  careful  examination,  he 
could  find  no  bottles  of  cologne,  no  nicely-packed 
cigars,  no  rich  silks,  no  Genevan  watches,  not  even  a 
child's  toy,  or  a  music  box.     But  what  could  be  the 


FRANCE  AND  ENGLAND.  477 

object  of  this  curious  bag  of  clothes.  A  custom-house 
officer  in  Maine  woukl  at  once  have  seized  the  whole 
as  some  mysterious  device  to  smuggle  liquors  into  the 
state  ;  but  the  liquor  law  not  being  in  force  in  France, 
this  idea  did  not  suggest  itself  to  the  poor,  bewil- 
dered fellow,  who  still  held  up  one  article  after  another, 
from  a  nice  linen  handkerchief  to  a  stocking  with  more 
holes  in  it  than  were  necessary  to  get  the  feet  in  and 
out.  He  talked  to  me  in  French,  and  I  talked  to  him 
Ji  English ;  he  pointed  to  the  bag  of  suspicious  articles, 
and  I  pointed  to  the  diligence  ready  to  start ;  he  shook 
his  finger,  and  I  stamped  my  foot.  The  postilion 
mounted  the  horse  and  cracked  his  whip ;  a  dozen 
heads  were  thrust  out  of  the  windows  and  doors  of 
the  carriage;  and  a  dozen  voices,  in  nearly  as  many 
different  languages,  vociferated  with  all  their  might. 
For  a  while,  the  chance  of  remaining  over  night  at 
this  horrible  place,  where  I  did  not  see  room  enough 
to  put  a  bed,  was  very  fair ;  but  I  concluded  to  try  an 
experiment  which  I  had  tried  once  before  with  success. 
With  an  air  of  offended  dignity,  I  took  the  bag  from 
the  hand  of  the  officer,  put  my  wet  clothes  into  it, 
shouldered  the  bundle,  marched  with  it  into  the  dili- 
gence, and  closed  the  door  behind  me  with  the  air  of 
a  man  who  had  been  most  egregiously  abused.  The 
officer  opened  his  eyes  wide ;  the  postilion  cracked  his 
whip  ;  the  passengers  shouted,  "  Bravo  ! "  and  the  rest 
of  the  way  I  had  the  best  seat  in  the  diligence,  and  the 
most  attention  from  my  fellow-travelers.  The  last  I 
saw  of  the  officer,  he  was  standing  in  the  road,  with 
his  hand  raised ;  and  for  aught  I  know,  he  stands 
there  still. 

At  dusk  we  arrived  at  Dijon,  a  tolerable  town  in 
France ;  and  I  repaired  at  once  to  a  second-rate  hotel, 


478  EUKOPA. 

near  the  center  of  the  place,  took  supper,  and  then  wan- 
dered out  to  spend  an  hour,  before  the  starting  of  the 
cars.  In  the  street  I  saw  an  Englishman,  of  huge  pro- 
portions, with  a  heavy  carpet  bag,  trying  to  inquire  of 
a  French  woman  the  way  to  the  railway  station.  The 
poor  fellow  was  trembling  lest  he  should  be  left  behind, 
and  the  woman  was  endeavoring  to  comprehend  his 
lingo,  but  in  vain.  I  very  uncivilly  stopped,  looked, 
and  laughed.  With  a  no  very  complimentary  expres- 
sion of  contempt  for  the  ignorance  of  the  woman,  who 
knew  as  much  of  English  as  he  did  of  French,  he 
turned  to  me,  and  screwing  up  his  lips  into  all  sorts 
of  shapes,  tried  to  put  enough  French  together  to  ask 
me  how  he  should  get  to  the  cars.  When,  with  a  pro- 
digious effort,  he  had  got  his  sentence  out,  I  said, 
"Whaf?"  At  that  one  word  the  man's  face  bright- 
ened, and  we  went  on  together  to  the  station.  On 
entering  the  cars,  he  persisted  in  paying  my  fare ;  and 
all  night  long  we  rode  together  towards  Paris,  at  which 
place  we  arrived  at  four  o'clock  the  next  morning.  I 
there  parted  from  my  new  acquaintance,  who  was  a 
merchant  of  Birmingham,  and  who  almost  extorted 
from  me  a  promise  that  I  would  spend  a  day  with  him 
before  leaving  the  country.  One  who  has  never  gone 
beyond  the  reach  of  his  own  language  can  hardly  esti- 
mate the  difhculties  of  a  man  who  is  in  a  strange  coun- 
try, where  he  can  hardly  ask  for  a  dish  of  soup  without 
having  set  before  him  a  tray  of  onions ;  and  where,  if 
he  asks  the  way  to  the  station-house,  he  is  pointed  to 
the  penitentiary.  One  letter  writer-^  gives  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  dilemma  in  which  he  was  placed  on  Sunday, 
when   he  went   from   Leyden   to   Haarlem   to   attend 

*  Rev.  Henry  Colman. 


FRANCE  AND   ENGLAND.  479 

church  and  hear  the  great  organ.  He  was  to  go  back 
that  night  to  Leyden,  where  he  had  left  some  friends. 
In  traveling  about,  he  lost  the  way,  and  did  not  know 
how  to  get  to  the  cars.  He  tried  English,  but  in  vain. 
He  used  French  with  no  more  success.  He  attempted 
German  and  Italian,  of  which  he  knew  a  little,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  The  men  laughed,  the  women  pitied 
him,  and  the  children  thought  they  had  found  a  crazy 
man.  Some  thought  he  was  begging  cold  victuals,  and 
some  took  him  for  a  madman.  At  length,  he  recol- 
lected seeing  over  the  railway  station  the  word  Spoor- 
iveff,  which,  he  thought,  might  be  the  Dutch  for  rail- 
road station  ;  so  he  began  to  shout,  "  Spoorweg !  Spoor- 
weg !  "  and,  to  his  delight,  found  that,  by  crying  it  all 
along,  he  was  enabled  to  arrive  in  season  to  take  the 
cars  for  Leyden ;  and  he  declared,  that  he  should  bless 
the  word  "  Spoorweg "  all  his  life. 

You  have  heard  the  case  mentioned  by  some  other 
traveler — I  do  not  remember  who  —  of  the  Frenchman, 
who,  on  arriving  in  England,  was  seized  with  sudden 
sickness.  He  knew  that  a  certain  part  of  his  system 
was  called  the  chest,  and  his  dictionary  told  him  that 
chest  was  a  box  to  keep  clothes  in  —  a  portmanteau. 
So,  confounding  the  two,  he  called  upon  a  medical  man, 
who  asked  him  where  the  pain  seemed  to  be  located. 
"  O,"  said  the  poor  man,  "  the  pain  is  in  my  portmanteau. 
O,  how  my  portmanteau  aches!"  he  cried,  laying  his 
hand  upon  his  chest.  Another  we  are  told  of,  who  was 
endeavoring  to  address  the  Evangelical  clergymen  in 
Scotland.  He  had  discovered  that  hare  and  barren,  in 
some  cases,  meant  the  same  thing ;  that  a  hare  country 
was  a  barren  one.  So  when  he  arose  to  speak,  he,  in 
his  desire  to  compliment  the  aged,  venerable,  bald  eccle- 
siastics before  him,  said  he  felt  "  much  diffidence  in 


480  EUEOPA. 

being  called  upon  to  address  so  many  barren  heads.' 
And  you  have  also  heard  of  the  man  in  France,  who, 
when  one  day  almost  exhausted,  took  some  of  the  light 
wine  of  the  country;  and,  in  accordance  with  the  sug- 
gestions of  a  friend,  who  knew  as  little  of  the  lan- 
guage as  he  did,  called  sacre,  instead  of  sucre,  when 
he  wished  something  to  make  the  sour  and  simple  bev- 
erage palatable. 

I  did  not  stay  in  Paris  but  a  few  hours,  and  took 
the  train  after  breakfast  for  London.  The  narrow, 
uncomfortable  car  which  I  entered  contained  one  man, 
who,  as  soon  as  the  train  started,  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  little  book,  and  began  to  read,  stopping  now  and 
then,  and  uttering  an  exclamation  of  delight.  I  soon 
found  he  was  reading  a  Testament,  and  judged  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  religious  man.  On  entering 
into  conversation,  I  found  that  he  was  a  colporter  of 
the  Baptist  persuasion,  and  a  man  of  considerable  in- 
formation and  much  apparent  sincerity.  He  opened 
to  my  mind  the  condition  of  the  Protestant  religion  in 
France,  and  gave  me  many  facts  illustrative  of  the  zeal 
and  devotion  of  the  few  and  persecuted  Christians  of 
that  misnamed  republic.  I  asked  his  opinion  of  Louis 
Napoleon,  but  he  seemed  inclined  to  avoid  a  reply ;  but 
at  length,  with  an  expressive  sigh,  he  answered,  in  in- 
different English,  "  The  president  got  no  God."  What 
single  sentence  could  more  fully  describe  the  perjured 
wretch  who  is  now  at  the  head  of  the  French  govern- 
ment '?  His  oath  of  office  was  one  of  the  most  solemn 
ever  taken,  but  he  violated  it.  The  constitution  of  his 
country  was  a  noble  document,  but  he  trampled  it  be- 
neath his  feet.  Liberty  had  commenced  her  reign  in 
France,  but  he  struck  down  her  angel  wings.  He  is, 
indeed,  without  a  God. 


FRANCE  AND  ENGLAND.  481 

I  arrived  in  Calais  at  night,  and  at  once  took  the 
steamer  for  Dover.  We  started  in  a  terrific  thunder 
storm,  which  raged  up  and  down  that  narrow  channel 
with  uncontrollable  fury.  We  were  three  hours  in 
crossing ;  and  three  such  hours  I  never  passed  in  my 
life  before.  There  were  about  forty  of  us  in  the  cabin, 
a  little,  square  room,  not  large  enough  to  accommodati 
ten  comfortably.  The  waves  dashed  over  the  decks 
and  we  were  shut  down,  without  the  least  ventilation 
The  steamer  was  small,  and,  under  the  violence  of  the 
waves,  seemed  to  be  knocked  about  like  a  chip  in  a 
tempest.  Most  of  the  passengers  were  French,  who 
were  going  over  to  the  great  exhibition,  and  many  of 
them  were  very  much  alarmed.  And,  indeed,  it  did 
seem  as  if  we  should  go  to  the  bottom.  Our  little  boat 
seemed  to  be  standing  now  on  one  end,  and  then  on  the 
other;  now  poised  on  a  watery  pinnacle,  and  anon 
buried  deep  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  while  far  above 
us  the  angry  waves  were  heard  roaring  in  their  terrible 
might.  Of  the  forty  persons  shut  up  in  the  cabin,  I 
believe  I  was  the  only  one  who  was  not  sea-sick ;  and 
I  was  saved  from  it  only  by  the  sport  which  the  ludi- 
crous scenes  furnished.  Here  were  men  and  women 
vomiting,  some  in  bowls,  some  on  the  floor,  and  some 
in  the  hats  and  bonnets  of  friends  ;  young  ladies  lying 
down  on  the  floor,  drabbling  fine  silk  dresses  in  the 
filth,  in  the  wildest  consternation ;  the  French  chatter- 
ing most  outrageously,  and  uttering  the  most  hideous 
outcries;  the  steward  running  from  one  to  another 
with  the  consoling  exclamations,  "  No  danger ! " 
"Don't  be  skeered!"  "Get  there  soon!"  with  which 
he  endeavored  to  comfort  the  wretched  creatures,  who 
imagined  they  were  about  to  perish.  In  the  midst  of 
all  this,  the  stove  fell  down,  bringing  with  it  our  only 
61  00 


482  EUEOPA. 

lamp,  leaving  us  in  total  darkness.  Then  was  such  an 
outcry  as  I  never  heard,  which,  until  another  light  was 
brought  and  order  restored,  was  truly  terrible.  The 
horrors  of  a  whole  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  did  not 
equal  the  scenes  of  that  one  evening,  into  three  hours 
of  which  were  crowded  all  the  awfulness  of  the  sea 
storm  and  all  the  danger  of  shipwreck. 

On  arriving  at  Dover,  we  repaired  to  the  custom- 
house, v/here  our  baggage  was  examined.  I  had  in 
my  bag  a  little  reprint  of  an  English  work  which  I 
had  purchased  in  Venice,  and  the  margin  of  every 
page  of  which  I  had  crowded  with  notes,  which  were 
of  no  small  value  to  me.  The  rude,  burly  fellow  who 
examined  my  little  stock  of  goods  perceived  this  book, 
and  before  I  could  remonstrate,  coolly  tore  it  to  pieces, 
and  threw  the  fragments  upon  the  floor. 

That  night  I  remained  in  Dover,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing started  in  an  early  train  for  London,  and  arrived 
in  time  to  breakfast  with  some  of  my  friends,  who  were 
just  sitting  down  to  their  morning  meal.  Two  or  three 
weeks  I  remained  in  London,  visiting  the  Crystal  Pal- 
ace, attending  the  sittings  of  the  Peace  Congress,  wan- 
dering about  among  the  stores,  churches,  and  houses, 
making  valuable  acquaintances,  and  receiving  much 
desirable  information.  Some  of  the  things  which  I 
saw,  and  some  of  the  places  which  I  visited,  I  have 
described  in  a  former  chapter ;  and  the  rest  I  will  not 
weary  you  to  detail.  Of  all  the  countries  in  Europe, 
England  is  the  greatest  and  the  best ;  of  all  sovereigns, 
Victoria  is  the  most  worthy  of  affection;  and  though  ' 
there  are  stains  upon  her  administration,  and  though 
there  are  wrongs  and  abuses  beneath  the  shadow  of 
her  throne,  yet  no  one  who  has  looked  upon  her  sweet 
countenance,  and  beheld  the  greatness  of  her  empire, 


FEANCE  AND  ENGLAND.  483 

can  withhold  the  expression,  "  God  save  the  queen." 
We  may  not  respond  to  every  sentiment  of  her  own 
poet  laureate/  contained  in  the  ode  with  which  he  has 
dedicated  to  her  majesty  one  of  his  latest  works ;  and 
yet,  in  the  present  state  of  Europe,  we  know  not  how 
to  utter  any  other  wish. 

"  Revered  Victoria,  you  that  hold 
A  nobler  office  upon  earth 
Than  arms,  or  power  of  brain,  or  birth 
Could  give  the  vi^arrior  kings  of  old, — 

"  I  thank  you  that  your  royal  grace 
To  one  of  less  desert  allows 
This  laurel,  greener  from  the  brows 
Of  him  that  uttereth  nothing  base  ; 

"  And  should  your  greatness,  and  the  care 
That  yokes  with  empire,  yield  you  time 
To  make  demand  of  modern  rhyme, 
If  aught  of  ancient  worth  be  there, — 

"  Take,  madam,  this  poor  book  of  song  ; 
For  though  the  faults  were  thick  as  dust 
In  vacant  chambers,  I  could  trust 
Your  sweetness.     May  you  rule  as  long,  — 

"  And  leave  us  rulers  of  your  blood 
As  noble  till  the  latest  day  ! 
May  children  of  our  children  say, 
'  She  wrought  her  people  lasting  good  ;  — 

"  '  Her  court  was  pure  ;  her  life  serene  ; 
God  gave  her  peace  ;  her  land  reposed ; 
A  thousand  claims  to  reverence  closed 
In  her  as  mother,  wife,  and  queen. 

*  Alfred  Tennyson. 


484  EUROPA. 

" '  She  brought  a  vast  design  to  pass, 

When  Europe  and  the  scattered  ends 
Of  our  fierce  world  were  mixed  as  friends 
And  brethren  in  her  halls  of  glass ;  — 

" '  And  statesmen  at  her  council  met, 
Who  knew  the  seasons,  when  to  take 
Occasion  by  the  hand,  and  make 
The  bounds  of  freedom  broader  yet,  — 

"  '  By  shaping  some  august  decree 

Which  kept  her  throne  unshaken  stil  , 
Broad-based  upon  her  people's  will, 
And  compassed  by  th'  inviolate  sea.'  " 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  485 


XXXVIII. 

THE    VOYAGE  — HOME    AGAIN. 

From  London  to  Liverpool,  where  I  tarried  a  few 
days,  visiting  Chester,  Birkenhead,  and  other  places  of 
interest  in  the  vicinity,  I  went,  and  secured  ray  place 
in  the  steamer  which  was  to  bear  me  to  my  own  dear 
native  land.  I  embarked  on  board  the  Europa,  July 
29,  and  passing  out  of  the  North  Channel  by  the  Isle 
of  Man,  the  coasts  of  merry  England  and  green  Ire- 
land faded  from  our  view.  Farewell,  Liverpool,  Bir- 
kenhead, the  Mersey,  and  the  rough,  boisterous  chan- 
nel. Welcome,  wide,  deep,  billowy  ocean,  for  ye  bear 
me  to  kindred  and  clime,  to  the  loved  scenes  of  youth, 
and  the  dear  delights  of  home. 

Sunday  came  —  a  dull,  irksome  day.  We  had  no 
religious  service  on  board,  and  the  passengers  went 
moping  about,  half  sea-sick,  sad  and  lonesome.  A 
week  rolled  away  —  a  stupid  week.  There  were  no 
storms,  no  vessels  in  sight,  not  even  a  sea  serpent  to 
furnish  us  amusement.  Another  Sunday  came,  and 
we  assembled  in  the  cabin  to  hear  the  English  church 
service  read  by  the  captain,  and  a  sermon  appended  to 
it  by  Rev.  Alexander  J.  Sessions,  of  Salem.  The  dis- 
course was  from  these  words  — "  The  kingdoms  of 
this  world  are  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord."  ^ 
The  preacher  attempted  to  show  that  the  religion  of 

'  Rev.  xi.  15. 

00* 


486  EUEOPA. 

Christ  would  ultimately  prevail  in  this  sin-ruined 
world.  He  argued,  1.  That  our  hearts  prophesy  this 
better  day ;  2.  The  events  of  history  teach  it ;  3.  The 
Scriptures  predict  it.  The  style  of  Mr.  Sessions  is  very 
peculiar,  adapting  him  rather  to  a  learned  and  select 
audience  than  a  promiscuous  one.  He  has  been  absent 
from  home  nearly  two  years,  traveling  in  the  East. 
One  evening,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  we  had  a 
fine  view  of  an  iceberg.  It  was  supposed  to  be  five 
or  six  miles  distant ;  and  those  whose  practiced  vision 
was  accustomed  to  measure  objects  at  sea  said  it  was 
about  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  It  presented 
a  very  beautiful  appearance,  as  the  motions  of  our 
vessel  brought  it  between  us  and  the  sinking  sun, 
whose  last  beams,  falling  upon  it,  adorned  it  with 
all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 

The  only  striking  incident  which  occurred  on  our 
way  home  took  ]3lace  on  the  night  of  the  second  Sab- 
bath we  were  out.  I  had  retired  to  rest  about  mid- 
night, and  soon  after  was  started  from  a  disturbed 
sleep  by  a  slight  shock,  which  was  followed  by  confu- 
sion on  deck,  and  a  backing  of  the  wheels  of  the 
steamer.  That  monstrous  iceberg  which  we  had  seen 
the  evening  before  rushed  into  the  mind,  and  the  idea 
that  we  had  struck  a  mass  of  floating  ice  was  not  at 
all  comfortable.  I  hastened  on  deck,  and  in  a  moment 
learnt  that  we  had  struck  a  vessel  instead  of  an  ice- 
berg, and  the  steamer  was  running  back  to  see  what 
damage  had  been  done.  Sad  were  our  feelings  as 
we  gathered  on  deck,  straining  our  eager  eyeballs  to 
gather  the  first  signs  of  the  wreck.  In  a  few  minutes, 
we  saw  the  vessel,  and  the  boats  were  at  once  put  oif 
to  the  rescue,  and  soon  fourteen  men  were  brought  on 
board.     The  vessel  proved  to  be  the  fishing  schooner 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  487 

Florence,  of  Wellfleet,  Lot  Higgins,  master,  a  craft  of 
eighteen  tons,  manned  by  fifteen  hands,  and  having  on 
board  two  hundred  and  fifty  barrels  of  mackerel.  Her 
only  boat  was  smashed  at  the  onset,  and  when  the  boats 
of  the  steamer  reached  her,  one  of  the  men  had  disap- 
peared. Had  the  night  been  dark,  or  stormy,  or  had 
the  steamer  been  five  minutes  longer  in  returning,  all 
on  board  the  wreck  would  have  perished.  The  men 
were  brought  on  board,  destitute  of  clothing,  having 
barely  escaped  with  their  lives.  The  cause  of  this  sad 
disaster  I  do  not  pretend  to  know.  The  night  was 
light,  the  vessel  could  be  seen  at  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant,  her  light  was  up,  and  as  she  saw  the 
steamer  coming,  a  gun  was  fired. 

And  it  is  a  wonder  that  no  more  disasters  of  this 
kind  occur.  The  night  after  leaving  Halifax  was  a  ter- 
rible one.  A  dense  fog  enveloped  us  all  night,  and  a 
vessel  could  not  be  seen  one  hundred  feet  ahead.  The 
fog  bell  could  be  heard  only  a  short  distance,  and  the 
steamer  was  ploughing  through  the  waves  at  the  rate 
of  thirteen  miles  an  hour.  When  the  morning  dawned, 
and  the  fog  cleared  away,  we  found  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  a  fleet  of  fishing  vessels;  and  it  seemed  a 
miracle  that  they  all  escaped.  The  Europa  was  the 
steamer  which  ran  down  an  emigrant  ship  a  few  years 
since,  by  which  about  one  hundred  lives  were  lost. 

We  put  into  Halifax,  and  stopped  about  three  hours. 
This  is  a  dirty  town,  full  of  pigs  and  dogs,  and  has  a 
dead,  decaying  look.  We  went  up  into  the  place  to  see 
what  we  could,  and  found  a  few  soldiers  ;  a  great  many 
negroes,  most  of  them  refugees  from  oppression  in  this 
boasted  and  boasting  land  of  freedom ;  one  or  two  good- 
looking  edifices,  and  a  large  number  of  unpainted,  di- 
lapidated wooden  houses,  which  seem  about  ready  to 


488  EUROPA. 

tumble  down  upon  the  heads  of  the  occupants.  Three 
hours  are  enough  for  a  stranger  to  see  the  whole  town, 
and  to  make  up  his  mmd  that  he  never  wants  to  see  it 
again.  On  hights  back  of  the  place  is  a  fine  fortifica- 
tion, and  one  or  two  Highland  regiments  are  quartered 
here.  What  use  these  are  put  to,  no  one  knows  ;  and 
they  must  be  a  set  of  lazy  fellows  to  endure  such  a  life. 
I  can  see  how  a  soldier  can  love  the  excitement  of 
battle,  and  the  din  of  war,  but  how  an  enterprising 
regiment  can  exist  in  Halifax  I  do  not  see. 

We  arrived  in  Boston  after  a  short  passage  of  ten 
days  and  ten  hours,  and  once  more  gazed  upon  the  wel- 
come and  familiar  sights  in  Boston  harbor.  The  rest 
you  knovv";  the  kindly  greeting,  the  pleasant  words, 
and  all  the  dear  delights  of  home.  I  saw  abroad  many 
a  fair  land,  but  none  so  dear  as  my  own  country.  I  saw 
many  churches,  with  spacious  aisles  and  dim  arches, 
but  none  like  the  more  homely  and  less  ostentatious 
one  in  which  ordaining  hands  were  laid  upon  my  head, 
and  in  which  I  have  preached  so  many  happy  years. .  I 
saw  many  kind  friends  and  pleasant  faces  abroad,  but 
none  so  pleasant  and  so  kind  as  those  to  whom  I 
returned  after  a  short  wandering. 

"  Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 
'  This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  '  1 " 

In  looking  back  over  the  countries  of  Europe,  we  can- 
not fail  to  perceive  that  great  events  are  soon  to  trans- 
pire, which  will  agitate  the  world.  The  position  assumed 
by  Louis  Napoleon  in  France  cannot  be  long  sustained, 
and  doubtless  thousands  in  that  fickle  and  irresponsi- 
ble nation  would  glory  in  the  idea  of  his  assassination, 
which,  sooner  or  later,  is  likely  to  take  place.     He  may. 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  489 

however,  live  long  enough  to  convulse  the  continent, 
and  drench  with  blood  every  tottering  throne.  That  he 
aims  at  imperial  honors  and  kingly  prerogatives  none 
can  doubt.  His  administration  is  a  reign  ;  his  govern- 
ment is  a  usurpation ;  and  his  constitution  is  the  edict 
of  an  unprincipled  despot.  A  Protestant  missionary,^ 
who  has  been  obliged  to  flee  from  his  own  country  to 
Brussels,  writes  of  the  usurper  as  follows :  "  They 
accept  the  peace  he  gives  without  loving  himself  The 
good  effected  by  him  is  received  with  pleasure,  in  view 
of  its  results,  but  without  enthusiasm  for  himself  He 
is  loved  as  one  loves  the  gendarme,  who  puts  a  robber 
in  prison ;  he  is  esteemed  as  one  esteems  a  commissary 
of  the  police,  who  maintains  order  in  a  town.  His  fetes 
are  brilliant,  but  without  soul  —  without  heart ;  the 
gas  burns  brilliantly  ;  the  lips  cry,  Vive  Napoleon  ;  but 
it  is  felt  to  be  a  matter  of  course  there,  and  a  heartless 
cry  elsewhere ;  and  if  a  crowd  presses  around  the  presi- 
dent, it  is  not  to  defend  his  person,  but  to  ask  for 
places.  It  must  be  conceded,  that  this  state  of  things 
proves  as  much  against  the  nation  as  against  Louis 
Napoleon.  If  nations  were  moral,  immoral  govern- 
ments would  not  be  of  long  continuance. 

"  The  Romish  clergy  continue  to  be  the  very  humble 
servants  of  Louis  Napoleon.  His  name  has  been  intro- 
duced into  their  prayers,  in  the  place  formerly  occupied 
by  the  king  or  the  republic.  The  pope's  words  are 
cited  in  entire  approval  of  the  coup  d'etat.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  miracles,  temporarily  suspended,  begin 
to  revive.  The  president  compliments  the  bishops,  the 
bishops  praise  the  president ;  and  while  the  speech  of 
the   Romish   clergy   at   the  reception  on   the    1st   of 

'  Rev.  Mr.  Roussel. 

62 


490  EUROPA. 

January  is  fully  reported,  not  a  word  is  said  of  the 
address  from  the  Protestant  consistory.  The  success 
of  Napoleon  encourages  the  German  government.  The 
Emperor  of  Austria  has  taken  away  the  constitution, 
and  the  government  vexes  the  Lutherans. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  read  w^hat  the  Romish  clergy 
are  permitted  to  publish.  I  give  you  a  faithful  abridg- 
ment from  a  Catholic  journal.  '  Our  missionaries  have 
found  an  admirable  method  of  converting  pagans  by 
thousands.  They  have  established  in  China  a  phar- 
macy, where  they  give  medical  advice  and  remedies 
gratuitously  to  children.  Then,  as  the  converted  Chi- 
nese employed  in  this  dispensary  are  very  skilful  in 
determining,  by  inspection  of  the  thumb,  whether  the 
malady  is  mortal,  we  have  an  admirable  method  of  bap- 
tizing these  little  creatures  at  the  point  of  death.  The 
Catholic  physician,  in  administering  the  remedy,  takes 
a  sponge  saturated  with  water,  and  squeezes  it,  in  the 
guise  of  a  medicine,  on  the  head  of  the  infant,  and  the 
dying  child  is  saved.'  " 

Perhaps  the  state  of  France  has  never  been  more  de- 
plorable than  at  the  present  time.  Vice  abounds,  and 
poverty  has  taken  the  place  of  prosperity  and  industry.^ 
The  people  have  lost  confidence  in  the  government  and 
in  each  other,  and  the  army  rules  from  the  Tuileries  to 
the  Boulevards.     The  prospect  of  a  great  European  war 

'  The  Westminster  Review  classi-  In  easy  circumstances,            550,000 

fies  the  people  of  France  in  the  fol-  In  moderate  circumstances,  4,200,000 

lowing  manner,  and  if  this  classifica-  Gaining-  a  decent  but  un- 

tion  be  correct,  we  have  a  view  of  certain  living,                    6,000,000 

the  social  condition  of  that  unfortu-  Gaining  a  scanty  and  un- 

nate  nation,  in  which  one  out  of  every  certain  living,                  16,000,000 

nine  persons  is  a  pauper,  and  where  Living    in    extreme    indi- 

nne  half  of  the  people  are  barely  fed  gence,                                 5,000,000 

and  clothed  :  —  Paupers,  thieves,  and  oth- 

,,.,,.       .  era,                                    4,000,000 

Millionaires,  50,000  

Rich  men,                               200,000  36,000,000 


THE  VOYAGE— HOME  AGAIN.  491 

increases  every  day,  and  the  prediction  of  Napoleon, 
that  Europe  will  soon  become  republican  or  Cossack, 
seems  like  to  be  verified  in  this  our  age.  England,  free 
and  glorious  in  her  might,  seems  to  be  almost  the  only 
obstacle  to  the  usurpations  of  the  ambitious  tyrants 
of  Paris,  Vienna,  and  St.  Petersburg.  She  is  strength- 
ening her  fortifications,  increasing  her  navy,  disciplining 
her  army,  and  preparing  for  whatever  may  occur  in  the 
future.  In  the  emergency  she  will  look  across  the  ocean 
for  help ;  she  will  appeal  away  from  tyrants  to  her  giant 
"daughter  of  the  west,"  and  with  firm  faith  in  the 
God  of  the  free,  will  battle  for  human  rights.  A  lace 
London  journaP  foresees  the  time,  and  utters  its  voice 
in  the  most  stirring  strains. 

"  Gigantic  daughter  of  the  west, 

We  drink  to  thee  across  the  flood  : 
We  know  thee  most,  we  love  thee  best ; 

For  art  thou  not  of  British  blood  ? 
Should  War's  mad  blast  again  be  blown, 

Permit  not  thou  the  tyrant  powers 
To  fight  thy  mother  here  alone, 
But  let  thy  broadsides  roar  with  ours. 
Hands  all  round  ! 
God  the  tyrant's  cause  confound  ! 
To  our  great  kinsman  of  the  west,  my  friends. 
And  the  great  name  of  England,  round  and  round ; 

"  Arise,  our  great  Atlantic  sons, 

When  war  against  our  freedom  springs  ! 
O,  speak  to  Europe  through  your  guns  — 

They  CAN  be  understood  by  kings  ! 
You  must  not  mix  our  queen  with  those 

That  wish  to  keep  the  people  fools  ; 
Our  freedom's  foemen  are  her  foes  — 

She  comprehends  the  race  she  rules. 

'  London  Examiner. 


492  EUROPA. 

Hands  all  round ! 

God  the  tyrant's  cause  confound  ! 
To  our  dear  kinsman  of  the  west,  my  friends, 
And  the  great  cause  of  freedom,  round  and  round." 

The  prayer  of  every  Christian  should  go  up  to  God 
that  he  would  avert  any  such  calamity  as  is  threatening 
in  the  signs  which  have  brought  out  these  forcible 
verses. 

Nor  can  we  foretell  what  will  be  the  result  of  the 
movement  which  is  now  going  on  in  the  Eomish 
church.  The  Catholic  masses  in  Europe  are  in  an 
agitated  and  troubled  state,  and  a  rupture  between  the 
pope  and  the  people  is  liable  to  come  at  any  moment. 
In  the  mean  while,  the  most  strenuous  efforts  are  being 
made  all  through  Europe  to  keep  the  Bible  away  from 
the  common  people.  The  living  and  the  dying  are 
denied  its  hallowed  light,  and  deprived  of  its  holy  effi- 
cacy. Letters  from  Europe  are  filled  with  accounts 
of  Popish  efforts  to  quench  the  fires  of  truth.  One 
traveler,^  writing  from  Italy,  says,  "  At  Nice,  a  highly- 
educated  gentleman,  a  graduate  of  Paris,  gave  instruc- 
tions in  my  family.  The  unhappy  man  attempted  sui- 
cide, but  he  was  saved  and  taken  to  a  hospital.  I 
visited  him  there,  [this  was  in  1842,]  and  read  the 
Scriptures  to  him,  to  which  he  listened  with  great 
pleasure.  Pemember  this  was  a  gentleman,  and  not  a 
poor  person,  who  might  be  thought  liable  to  be  easily 
misled.  The  Bishop  of  Nice  applied  to  the  governor 
of  the  city.  Monsieur  de  Maistre,  to  prevent  my  visits, 
whom  I  knew  intimately,  who  had  dined  in  my  house, 
and  who  had  declared  to  me  that  it  '  was  a  calumny  to 
say  that  Roman  Catholics  are  prevented  from  reading 

'  Sir  Culling  Eardly. 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  493 

the  Scriptures.'  My  friend,  Monsieur  de  Maistre,  at  the 
bishop's  request,  ordered  that  I  should  not  be  admitted 
to  visit  the  (supposed)  dying  man.  I  remonstrated  with 
him,  in  his  own  palace,  by  the  hour  together,  several 
times.  At  last  he  offered  to  go  to  the  hospital  with  me. 
I  assented,  if  I  might,  in  his  presence,  read  the  Bible  to 
the  dying  man.  That  he  refused,  and  I  never  saw  the 
poor  gentleman  again." 

In  Hungary,  the  cause  of  evangelical  truth  is  opposed 
at  every  step,  and  the  enemies  of  the  Bible  are  doing 
all  they  can  to  rid  the  country  of  its  influence.  A  mis- 
sionary,^ writing  from  Pesth,  says,  "A  terrible  blow 
has  been  struck  at  the  mission,  and  yet  the  Lord  may 
bring  good  out  of  the  seeming  evil.  Two  imperial 
orders  from  Vienna  compel  us  all  instantly  to  quit  the 
Austrian  territory.  Every  effort  with  our  embassy  and 
the  government  has  failed  even  to  ameliorate  the  se- 
verity of  the  edict.  If  we  are  not  on  the  way  to-mor- 
row, we  shall  be  expelled  by  military  force.  My  youngest 
child  is  two  months  old ;  my  second  youngest  sixteen 
months.  Mr.  Smith's  little  daughter  is  in  very  deli- 
cate health ;  and  both  of  us  handed  in  medical  certifi- 
cates, that  a  journey  in  the  very  severest  winter  season 
endangered  Mrs.  Wingate's  and  several  other  members 
of  the  families'  lives  —  all  in  vain.  In  six  short  days, 
all  our  arrangements  have  had  to  be  completed.  The 
school,  as  yet,  is  untouched.  In  these  circumstances, 
we  have  no  resource  but  to  set  out.  The  Lord  will 
undertake  for  us.  Here  is  nothing  but  weeping  and 
wailing.  We  trust  soon  to  render  an  account  of  our 
transactions,  and  of  the  persecutions  and  cruelties  which 
have  been  perpetrated.     Brother  Edwards  is  in  a  still 

'  Mr.  Wingate. 

PP 


494  EUROPA. 

more  dreadful  position.  It  is  supposed  here  that  we 
are  on  the  point  of  war  with  Great  Britain.  Fear  not 
for  the  mission  to  the  Jews.  We  doubt  not  the  ship 
will  safely  pass  through  this  storm." 

In  Sweden,  the  enslaved  people  are  groaning  be- 
neath the  wrongs  and  curses  of  the  establishment ;  and 
a  writer  from  Copenhagen  gives  the  following  doleful 
description,  in  a  long  and  interesting  letter  to  an  Eng- 
lish journal:^  "The  bloody  and  bigoted  intolerance 
of  the  Swedish  church  laws,  by  which  Swedish  Lu- 
theranism  is  pinned  to  the  earth  a  helpless  slave  in  the 
hands  of  the  civil  power,  while  the  laity  sink  into  the 
serfs  of  the  police  church,  has,  during  the  last  ten 
years,  caused  the  emigration  of  thousands  of  the 
'  Pietist '  peasantry  of  the  northern  provinces  —  a  se- 
vere loss  to  a  country  like  Sweden.  We  now  learn 
that  this  movement  is  extending  to  the  south  of 
Sweden,  and  that  a  large  emigration  to  America  will 
commence  next  summer  from  Skane.  A  writer  in  a 
Swedish  paper  says,  '  We  have  become  so  persuaded 
that  no  good  object,  least  of  all  religious  liberty,  can 
be  gained  in  our  country,  except  at  a  snail's  pace,  that 
we  prefer  to  leave  it  altogether.  Spectators  of  the  way 
in  which  the  population  of  Ireland  has  sunk  from  nine 
millions  to  six  ought  to  reflect  before  they  abandon 
themselves,  body  and  soul,  to  a  system  of  reaction.' 
King  Oscar  has  hitherto  taken  no  step  towards  free- 
dom of  conscience  in  Sweden.  If  he  finds  that  the 
present  system  will  materially  diminish  the  number  of 
his  tax  payers,  he  may  be  induced  to  alter  his  policy. 
That  the  Swedes  themselves  do  not  boldly  take  the 
matter  in  hand,  as  a  question  of  common  civil  right, 
is  most  amazing." 

'  London  Morning  Chronicle. 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  495 

The  German  papers  state  that  the  cause  of  truth  is 
suppressed  there ;  and  in  one  account  we  have  the  fol- 
lowing precious  item :  "  One  of  the  most  respectable 
citizens  of  Schweinfurt,  and  member  of  a  religious 
communion  dissolved  by  the  government,  declined  to 
have  his  children  confirmed  according  to  the  rites  of 
the  state  church,  and  was  informed  that  if  he  persisted 
in  keeping  them  away,  he  would  be  arrested." 

In  Austria,  the  flame  of  persecution  burns  with 
great  fury ;  and  a  beloved  man,^  whose  name  is  dear 
to  all  lovers  of  religion  and  liberty,  writes  as  follows : 
"  On  the  20th  April,  eleven  of  our  brethren,  and  five 
other  persons  assembled  with  them  at  Vienna,  were 
suddenly  arrested  and  cast  into  prison;  but  they  have 
since  been  liberated,  owing  to  the  intercessions  of  a 
person  of  high  influence.  Another  case  of  persecution 
has  occurred  in  the  grand  duchy  of  ^Mecklenburg,  and 
we  have  every  reason  to  fear  that  the  evangelical 
clergy  in  the  Lutheran  church  have  been  its  chief  in- 
stigators. Brother  Bues,  our  missionary  at  Wismar, 
w^as  in  the  first  instance  banished  from  the  country  for 
preaching  and  seducing  the  people  from  the  state 
church.  Some  time  later,  another  brother  Avas  ban- 
ished from  Ludwigslust,  the  summer  residence  of  the 
grand  duke,  for  having  instructed  a  few  of  the  chil- 
dren of  our  members  from  the  Bible,  on  the  Lord's 
day;  and,  finally,  the  resident  members  have  been 
heavily  fined  for  continuing  to  hold  religious  assem- 
blies. The  government  has  made  known  its  determina- 
tion to  suppress,  and,  if  possible,  entirely  put  an  end 
to,  our  sectarian  movements.  It  might  be  well  if  our 
British  brethren  were  once  more  to  exert  their  influ- 

'  Rev.  J.  G.  Oncken. 


496  EUEOPA. 

ence,  on  behalf  of  our  persecuted  brethren,  by  sending 
an  earnest  remonstrance  to  the  grand  duke,  and  by 
giving  publicity  to  these  barbarous  facts." 

To  show  how  much  liberty  men  have  in  the  classic 
land,  we  have  only  to  refer  to  the  fact  which  was 
brought  to  us  but  a  few  days  ago  in  the  following 
words,  which  show  that  even  a  man's  official  connec- 
tion with  our  distinguished  government  will  not  save 
him  from  persecution,  if  he  makes,  sells,  or  gives 
away  a  book  which  does  not  indorse  the  divine  nature 
of  the  Virgin  Mary :  "  Dr.  King,  the  eminent  Amer- 
ican missionary,  and  the  United  States'  consul  at 
Athens,  in  Greece,  has  been  sentenced  to  fifteen  days' 
imprisonment,  and  to  expulsion  from  the  country,  for 
having  published  a  book  to  prove  that  divine  honors 
should  not  be  paid  to  the  Virgin  Mary.  His  convic- 
tion is  said  to  have  been  procured  by  foreign  influence, 
to  be  against  the  law  and  the  evidence,  and  contrary 
to  the  Greek  constitution,  which  guaranties  religious 
toleration." 

These  facts  and  figures  show  us,  to  some  extent,  the 
general  hostility  of  Europe  to  the  Bible,  which  only 
can  make  good  government  and  sound  national  pros- 
perity. The  pope  has  condemned  it,  and  in  his  en- 
cyclical letter  banished  it  from  his  vast  dominion  ;  and 
kings  and  emperors  are  doing  his  will.  The  ordi- 
nances of  religion  are  suppressed,  and  the  law  of  God 
is  despised.  The  records  of  missions  assure  us,  that  "at 
Eimbeck,  in  Hanover,  the  assembly  of  the  church  has 
been  twice  dispersed  by  the  police,  and  their  pastor  is 
threatened  with  a  prosecution  in  case  he  ventures  to 
hold  another  religious  service.  In  Baden,  though  the 
Jesuits  have  the  largest  liberty,  our  brethren  are  for- 
bidden   to    hold   a    meeting    for   worship.       A.nother 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  497 

brother  has  been  expelled  from.  Mecklenburg,  and  Mr. 
Niemitz,  the  pastor  at  Memel,  in  Prussia,  has  been 
forbidden  to  carry  on  a  Sabbath  school.  Three  com 
plaints  have  been  made  against  him  for  administering 
the  Lord's  supper.  But  they  are  undismayed,  confi- 
dent that  as  persecution  in  time  past  has  not  crushed 
the  truth,  it  cannot  now  crush  it. 

"  A  late  communication  from  Dr.  Devan  shows  that 
the  French  authorities  are  more  than  ever  openly  hos- 
tile to  evangelical  effort.  A  colporter  has  been  arrested 
and  lodged  in  prison.  Two  pious  soldiers  have  been  put 
under  arrest  for  reading  the  Scriptures  and  observing 
social  worship,  which  had  been  the  instrument  of  the 
conversion  of  two  of  their  comrades.  These  desired 
baptism,  which  it  was  not  thought  prudent  to  admin- 
ister immediately  under  the  circumstances.  One  of 
the  native  assistants  of  the  mission  has  been  threat- 
ened with  prosecution  for  itinerancy.  These  may  be 
but  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  But  '  the  wind  blow- 
eth  where  it  listeth  —  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of 
the  Spirit.'  For  those  Avho  are  truly  the  Lord's 
chosen,  we  have  sympathy,  but  no  fear ;  they  are  safe. 
France  claims  our  pity,  for  there  is  no  safety  to  nations 
that  war  against  the  kingdom  of  Christ." 

In  England  and  Scotland,  Romanists  are  making 
the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  root  out  the  old  Cove- 
nanter faith,  and  break  down  the  old  Covenanter's  spirit. 
Convents  and  churches  to  Antichrist  are  rising  on  all 
sides  ;  and  the  war  has  been  carried  into  Parliament, 
and  has  raged  up  and  down  the  land  among  the  people. 

What  the  consequences  of  all  this  will  be,  no  hu- 
man vision  can  foresee.     All  we  have  to  do  is  to  wait 
the  result.     While  the  enemy  is  at  work,  the  Lord  is 
lifting  up  a  banner  and  setting  a  defence  against  him. 
63  pp* 


498  EUROPA. 

Truth  is  girding  herself  for  the  contest,  and  the  Bible 
is  shedding  its  light  in  spite  of  prisons  and  flames. 
And  on  the  truth  which  that  Bible  teaches  we  must 
rely.  It  is  our  only  hope  of  freedom  for  the  world ; 
and  if  its  light  is  extinguished,  the  whole  system  of 
civil  society  is  in  dense  darkness.  It  makes  our  coun- 
try what  it  is,  and  gives  to  America  its  noblest  endow- 
ments. We  can  but  say  with  another,^  "  Tell  me 
where  the  Bible  is,  and  where  it  is  not,  and  I  will  write 
a  moral  geography  of  the  world.  I  will  show  what,  in 
all  particulars,  is  the  physical  condition  of  that  peoj)le. 
One  glance  of  your  eye  will  inform  you  where  the 
Bible  is,  and  where  it  is  not.  Go  to  Italy:  decay, 
degradation,  suffering  meet  you  on  every  side.  Com- 
merce droops,  agriculture  sickens,  the  useful  arts  lan- 
guish. There  is  a  heaviness  in  the  air;  you  feel 
cramped  by  some  invisible  power ;  the  people  dare  not 
speak  aloud ;  they  walk  slowly ;  an  armed  soldiery  is 
around  their  dwellings;  the  armed  police  take  from 
the  stranger  his  Bible  before  he  enters  the  territory. 
Ask  for  the  Bible  in  the  bookstores ;  it  is  not  there, 
or  in  a  form  so  large  and  expensive  as  to  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  common  people.  The  preacher  takes 
no  text  from  the  Bible.  Enter  the  Vatican  and  in- 
quire for  a  Bible,  and  you  will  be  pointed  to  some  case 
where  it  reposes  among  prohibited  books,  side  by  side 
with  the  works  of  Diderot,  Housseau,  and  Voltaire. 
But  pass  over  the  Alps  into  Switzerland,  and  down  the 
Khine  into  Holland,  and  over  the  channel  to  England 
and  Scotland,  and  what  an  amazing  contrast  meets  the 
eye !  Men  look  with  an  air  of  independence ;  there 
are  industry,  neatness,  instruction  for  children.     Why 

*  Dr.  William  Adams, 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  499 

this  diiFerence ?  There  is  no  brighter  sky;  there  are 
no  fairer  scenes  of  nature ;  but  they  have  the  Bible ; 
and  happy  are  the  people  who  are  in  such  a  case,  for 
it  is  righteousness  that  exalteth  a  nation." 

If  we  have  any  thing  to  fear  in  this  free,  happy  land, 
it  is  the  influence  of  Romanism  upon  our  liberal  institu- 
tions. Already  sentiments  have  been  advanced,  which, 
if  carried  out,  will  transform  our  government  into  as 
gross  a  despotism  as  ever  was  seen  beneath  the  sun. 
If  the  Papist  has  a  right  to  break  faith  with  heretics ; 
if  the  Pope  of  Rome,  a  temporal  sovereign,  has  a  right 
to  absolve  any  American  citizen  from  his  oath  of  alle- 
giance to  this  nation  and  government ;  if  a  sect  is  rising 
in  our  midst  who  glory  in  the  burning  of  Bibles,  and 
who  consider  it  the  highest  honor  to  break  down  the  re- 
ligion of  Jesus,  —  why,  we  may  tremble  lest  our  boasted 
land  become  another  Erin,  in  which  famine  stalks  abroad, 
and  poverty  reigns  without  mitigation.  Listen  to  the 
sentiments  which  have  come  thundering  out  from  an 
American  press,  the  hideous  sentiments  of  the  mind  of 
a  man^  who  claims  America  as  his  home;  sentiments 
which  contain  a  poison,  which,  if  it  could  sink  down 
into  the  hearts  of  freemen,  —  which,  thank  God,  is  im- 
possible, —  would  send  the  virus  of  death  through  all 
the  veins  and  arteries  of  the  whole  social  and  political 
system  under  which  we  live. 

"  Protestantism  is,  no  doubt,  a  heresy ;  but  all 
heresy  is  at  best  only  inchoate  heathenism,  and  needs 
only  time  and  freedom  to  become  fully  developed  hea- 
thenism ;  for  it  is  the  assertion  of  the  natural  against 
the  supernatural,  the  secular  against  the  spiritual,  the 
human  against  the  divine.    Protestantism  is  heathenism 

'  O.  A.  Brownson. 


500  EUROPA. 

in  its  natural  form,  since  the  church,  as  ancient  As- 
syrian, Chaldean,  Egyptian,  Greek,  and  Roman  Gen- 
tilism,  was  the  natural  form  of  civilized  heathenism 
before  her.  It  is  only  the  church  that  introduces  into 
the  world  another  than  a  heathen  element;  remove 
her,  and  nothing  but  heathenism  does  or  can  remain. 
The  essence  of  all  heathenism,  whether  before  or  since 
the  Christian  church,  is  in  the  emancipation  of  the 
flesh  of  the  secular  order,  and  the  subjection  of  the 
spiritual.  Protestantism,  whatever  its  pretensions,  is 
therefore  really  heathenism,  and  nothing  else ;  or  if  it 
please  its  friends  better,  since  it  professes  to  believe  in 
the  Messiah,  we  will  consent  to  call  it  carnal  Judaism, 
which  holds  the  Messiah  to  be  a  temporal  instead  of 
a  spiritual  prince,  the  founder  of  an  earthly  instead  of 
a  heavenly  kingdom,  places  the  secular  above  the  spir- 
itual, and  puts  the  creature  in  place  of  the  Creator 
—  the  essential  principle  of  all  heathenism  and  of  all 
idolatry.  It  bears  the  same  relation  to  Christianity 
that  carnal  Judaism  bore  to  spiritual  Judaism. 

"AVe  wish  our  readers  to  bear  in  mind  that  it  is 
not  religious  bigotry,  that  it  is  not  zeal  for  religion, 
that  chiefly  lights  the  fires  of  Protestant  persecution, 
but  zeal  for  the  world,  and  determination  to  subor- 
dinate religion  always  and  every  where  to  the  secular 
power.  And,  therefore,  we  lose  all  the  breath  we  ex- 
pend in  declaiming  against  bigotry  and  intolerance, 
and  in  favor  of  religious  liberty,  or  the  right  of  every 
man  to  be  of  any  religion  or  of  no  religion,  as  best 
pleases  him,  which  some  two  or  three  of  our  journal- 
ists would  fain  persuade  the  world  is  Catholic  doctrine. 
Such  declamations  only  tend  to  render  Catholics  indif- 
ferent to  their  faith,  or  to  inoculate  them  with  a  false 
and  fatal   liberalism,  as  experience   every  day  proves. 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  501 

They  produce  no  effect  en  Protestants,  save  so  far  as 
they  may  be  regarded  as  indications  of  a  tendency 
among  us  to  abandon  our  religion,  and  turn  Protestant 
or  infidel.  It  is  always  folly  to  talk  or  reason  of  Prot- 
estants, taken  as  a  body;  as  if  they  had  religion,  or 
cared  a  pin's  head  for  religion  of  any  sort.  Set  them 
down  always  as  modern  heathens,  and  go  and  preach  to 
them  as  the  fathers  did  to  the  Gentiles,  or  you  will 
never  touch  them.  They  will  persecute  you  if  they 
have  the  power,  and  regard  you  as  of  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  be  persecuted,  until  you  succeed  in  convincing 
them  that  heathenism  is  false  and  Catholicity  is  true, 
and  that  they  are  to  live  for  heaven  and  not  for  earth. 
The  great  error  into  which  we  fall  is  that  of  considering 
Protestantism  as  a  form  of  religion,  and  adhered  to  from 
religious  motives.  If  such  was  ever  the  case,  it  is  not 
now.  With  here  and  there  an  individual  exception, 
Protestants  constitute  not  a  religious,  but  a  political 
and  social  party ;  and  what  they  say  in  reference  to  re- 
ligion, is  said  only  in  furtherance  of  their  secular  move- 
ments or  desires,  whether  they  themselves  are  distinctly 
conscious  that  it  is  so  or  not. 

"  Our  first  work  should  be  to  unprotestantize  our- 
selves —  a  thing  we  shall  not  very  readily  do,  if  our 
popular  writers  take  care  to  deny  or  suppress  Catholic 
truth,  as  applicable  to  the  secular  order.  Atheistical 
politics  are  well  nigh  universal,  and,  till  we  abandon 
them  ourselves,  we  shall  make  poor  headway  against 
Protestantism,  when  we  ourselves  are  afraid  to  assert 
the  supremacy  of  the  spiritual  order.  As  that  unity 
and  Catholicity  are  effected  and  secured  by  the  papacy, 
the  real  object  of  attack  is  the  pope,  and  his  spiritual 
authority,  under  God,  over  the  whole  secular  order. 
The  whole  question  is  here.     Give  up   or   deny  that 


502  EUROPA. 

authority,  and  yon  give  np  or  deny  all  that  Protestantism 
really  opposes,  and  embrace  practically  all  that  is  living 
in  it,  and  are  Protestants  in  the  only  sense  in  which 
Protestants  are  worth  counting.  We  must,  therefore, 
if  we  mean  to  be  Catholics,  be  truly — we  like  the  word 
—  Papists,  and  fearlessly  assert  the  Papal  supremacy." 
Sentiments  like  these  show  that  even  in  our  land  the 
great  battle  between  freedom  and  tyranny  is  again  to  be 
fought,  and  the  question  of  individual  opinion,  freedom 
of  conscience,  and  the  right  of  self-government,  which 
our  fathers  supposed  was  settled  long  ago,  is  to  be  again 
contested  on  the  very  soil  where  they  poured  out  their 
blood.  What  its  result  will  be,  no  one  who  has  faith 
in  man,  and  in  the  progress  of  society,  and  in  the  strong 
arm  of  God,  can  doubt,  — 

"  For  freedom's  battle  once  begun, 
Bequeathed  from  bleeding  sire  to  son, 
Though  baffled  oft,  is  ever  won." 

No  intelligent  person  can  travel  through  Europe,  we 
think,  without  being  forced  to  the  conclusion,  that  Ro- 
manism is  destructive  to  the  best  interests  of  every  com- 
munity. He  cannot  fail  to  see  evidences  of  its  degrading, 
enslaving  spirit,  and  he  will  trace  the  woes  of  many  an 
unfortunate  people  to  that  great  organization  which 
ought  to  stretch  out  its  hands  and  drop  blessings  upon 
the  millions  who  fly  to  it  for  protection.  His  heart 
will  be  heavy,  and  his  spirit  will  be  sad,  as  he  finds  the 
professed  church  of  God  placing  the  iron  fetters  upon 
the  limbs  of  the  disciples,  and  crushing  the  energies  of 
the  people  of  God.  As  he  approaches  the  Eternal  City, 
he  will  behold  new  causes  of  grief,  as  he  finds  the  glory  of 
Rome  gone,  and  all  its  shame  and  guilt  yet  remaining. 
He  will  leave  the  old  man  of  the  Vatican,  who  wears  a 


THE  VOYAGE  — HOME  AGAIN.  503 

paper  cap,  and  is  surrounded  with  a  guard  of  foreigners 
with  striped  breeches ;  who  rides  on  the  shoulders  of 
men,  and  requires  the  people  to  kiss  his  toe;  who 
stands  there  amid  the  dead  mummies  from  Egypt,  and 
the  dumb  idols  from  Nimrod,  and  casts  his  bulls  across 
the  mountains  and  the  seas,  —  he  will  leave  this  old 
man,  and  go  out  to  the  ruins  of  the  past,  and  sit  down 
alone,  to  wonder  why  Rome  should  exchange  paganism 
for  popery,  the  emperor  for  the  pope. 

The  part  which  is  to  be  taken  by  our  great  confed- 
eracy of  states  none  can  misunderstand.  It  is  the  ex- 
ample of  our  own  nation  which  has  inspired  the  down- 
trodden people  of  continental  Europe  with  the  holy 
desire  to  be  free ;  and  in  the  light  which  emanates  from 
our  institutions  are  they  to  march  forward,  until  the 
last  chain  is  broken,  and  the  last  tyrant  has  been  dis- 
enthroned.  We  are  not  called  to  descend  from  the 
high  position  we  occupy  to  contest  a  few  feet  of  land, 
or  battle  for  an  empty  name.  Our  flag  need  never  float 
in  the  breezes  of  Italy,  or  be  torn  upon  the  plains  of 
Germany,  or  flap  in  the  wild  and  fitful  blasts  of  an 
Alpine  storm.  The  oppressed  masses  of  the  old  world 
need  our  Bible  more  than  money ;  our  missionaries  will 
conquer  faster  than  our  soldiers ;  the  glad  notes  of  sal- 
vation will  be  more  effectual  than  the  thunder  of  can- 
non. The  greatest  foe  to  human  freedom  is  the  church 
of  Rome.  It  is  her  heel  which  is  now  on  the  prostrate 
form  of  liberty,  and  vain  is  every  hope  until  her  power 
is  broken.  The  only  weapon  which  can  be  used  against 
her  is  the  Bible.  That  she  fears  ;  that  she  hates.  She 
trembles  more  when  a  few  colporters  find  their  way  into 
her  territories,  than  when  a  hostile  army  is  thundering 
at  the  gates  of  the  Vatican.  Our  mission  is  to  set  the 
nations  of  Europe  an  example,  and  send  them  light. 


504  EUEOPA. 

The  conquests  we  are  to  make  are  bloodless ;  our  vic- 
tories are  moral  and  mighty.  No  fire,  no  sword,  no 
blast  of  war,  but  a  calm,  steady  light,  shining  upon  the 
blackness  of  the  world's  long  night,  and  a  holy  stream 
of  information  and  truth,  continually  flowing  forth  to 
the  world's  drear  and  desolate  abodes. 

I  bid  adieu  to  my  kind  reader,  with  many  thanks  for 
his  patience  in  following  me  through  so  many  scenes  of 
joy  and  sorrow ;  and  if  I  have  related  any  thing  to  in- 
struct or  please,  I  shall  be  repaid  for  having  transferred 
from  the  pages  of  my  journal  to  the  printed  volume 
these  hasty  observations,  which,  I  trust,  may  not  be 
found  to  any  considerable  extent  incorrect. 


/ 


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